


Without A Parachute

by captain_chased_by_time



Series: Without A Parachute [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23813203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_chased_by_time/pseuds/captain_chased_by_time
Summary: Emma worked tremendously hard to give herself a better chance. From group homes, to living in her car, to ivy league student, this English Major’s only solace was escaping her reality through books. One night, Emma comes home to find a small package with only her name on it written in beautiful calligraphy. The package contains a thick, brown leather journal. Emma soon learns that the fiction she writes in the journal eventually becomes reality. Will Emma learn to control this gift, or will she fall too fast into the temptation to change too much? With the help of her good friends August, Robin, and Elsa, and the mysterious, intriguing bartender of The Jolly Roger, Emma discovers just how easy it is to lose control, and how difficult it is to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: Without A Parachute [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715734
Comments: 29
Kudos: 27





	1. The New Year

_But was it really that bad_

_And could it be better_

_Well I don't know, but with you I still have hope_

_That this, could be, all my year_

\- Parachute, _The New Year_

College towns are quiet during breaks. Students return home to their families, their friends, that are waiting for them to spill every detail of their classes and college friends, of their majors and minors and how many times they changed their minds on both of those topics, of their sororities and fraternities. But Emma stayed. 

The orphan who moved between 14 group homes before finally saving up enough money to purchase an old, yellow VW Bug that she lived in for 3 years of high school so that she could have someone to write a decent college letter of recommendation for her, didn’t have a home to go home to. She had worked impossibly hard to get to Cornell. She had almost a full scholarship. The rest she supplemented with student loans she knew she’d be drowning in forever. It was enough to cover the rest of her tuition and rent for her too-small room in a run-down, 3-bedroom apartment right off campus that she shared with 2 other girls. She had the smallest room, but paid the least and she barely spoke to her roommates who had both returned home for winter break.

Emma worked at the local independent bookstore, fitting for an English major. They paid her under the table so she could afford her rent and groceries. It was slow when school was in session, so it sometimes felt dead during breaks. But the slowness was nice. Emma sat at the register reading for pleasure for the first time in what feels like forever. Belle, the owner, became a good friend of Emma’s during this slow period. They talked about books and school. Belle told her all about the artwork and nicknacks that doracted the store and how each was from a different place she’d traveled to. They laughed in the evening over some of the more _interesting_ orders requested by patrons. _Rose and Petal Books_ would special order any book that wasn’t in the store, and there were definitely some _special_ orders every now and again. You had students researching obscure topics and locals researching other things. It was a fun job. You could learn alot about someone by the books they purchase. 

Overall, Cornell was perfect. It was big enough to get lost in and beautiful enough to not want to get too lost that it was impossible to find again. Emma’s first semester went well, but not as well as she had hoped. She couldn’t study in her apartment because her roommates were too loud at all times. The Library was always crowded and she found it too hard to focus. It was time to change her game plan.

It wasn’t long before classes began and her friends returned. Everyone had been so busy catching up with folks back home that they didn’t text much, so Emma was excited to see her friends again. As classes geared up, Emma tried everything to improve her studying. The library again just stressed her out with all the nervous energy and too many students. Her roommates were still up and loud at all hours, except 5 - 11 am when they actually got some sleep. Coffee shops were nice but buying a coffee for $4-6 every time she wanted to study wasn’t going to really help her bank account. Then it hit her as one of her roommates was getting into a screaming match with her rugby-playing boyfriend, interrupting Emma’s studying during the third week of the semester. _The Jolly Roger_.

The Jolly Roger was a local dive-bar on the edge of Collegetown but it wasn’t a long walk from her apartment or her job. It was a Friday at 1pm. No one would be at a bar this early and a coffee at a bar was significantly cheaper than anything at a coffee shop, albeit probably worse. Emma had never stepped foot in the bar, she preferred to stick to herself and enjoyed the quiet of her apartment when her roommates finally went out for the night on weekends. She grabbed her books and notebook and shoved them into her faded navy Jansport backpack. She tied her long, blonde hair up in a ponytail to attempt to keep it out of her face in the winter winds.

It was foggy and windy and cold, which is pretty much how it is at all times here. When Emma opened the door to the bar, thankful to find it open. After clearing them off, Emma took a spot at the empty bar. There were only 2 other people eating lunch at two of the few tables. She took her Macroeconomics textbook and notebook from her bag and placed them on the bar.

“Can I help you?” asked a male voice with an Irish accent. Emma looked up as she sat down and saw a bearded man with blue eyes standing behind the bar, drying off a glass.

“I’m sorry I just needed a quiet place to study. Coffee please?”

“$2.00. How do you take it?”

“Black is fine.” The man went to the kitchen, and returned shortly with a mug of black coffee. He also set down some sugar.

“Trust me, you’ll need it.” He smirked and winked at Emma who paid him in cash. She gave a slight smile in return and took a sip, nearly choking at how awful it was. The man was right. The only way to survive was sugar. She tore open two packs and spilled them in her coffee. Another sip proved the coffee drinkable. 

“Thanks.” She offered, nodding at him. Emma opened her textbook to the chapter she was working on and her notebook to where she left off taking notes. She put her glasses on and got to work.

The bar was pretty quiet for the most part. Only a few voices every now and again and the sound of soft music that she couldn’t quite make out. Before she knew it she had been working for 4 hours straight with no break and had finished that awful cup of coffee. She only stopped when the bartender plopped a plate of fries in front of her. 

“You should eat something. It’s 5:30 and you haven’t come up for air once.” He said. “Usually people are more distracted by my _devilish_ charm.” He grinned. Emma closed her book, placed it on top of her notebook, and took her glasses off.

“Thank you,” was all she could muster after over 4 hours of barely understanding what she was reading. She ate a fry, finally realizing how hungry she was after working all morning and studying all afternoon, forgetting to eat lunch. The bartender nodded in response and stood across from her.

“What are you studying?” He asked.

“Macroeconomics.” Emma responded. “But I’m an English Major.”

“Ahhh. A hopeless romantic dreaming of Prince Charming sweeping you off your feet, aye?” He teased.

“No.” She responded, trying to match his teasing tone. “Books and words have more power than Prince Charming or whatever. They can take you anywhere and everywhere. Further than any horse can take you.”

“Fair point.” He responded, knowing first hand just how right she was. He took a fry from her plate and leaned forward, resting his arms on the bar in front of her. “So what’s your name, mate?”

“Emma. Emma Swan.” She mirrored his movements, popping another fry into her mouth. “And you, Bartender?”

“Killian. Killian Jones.” 

“Nice to meet you, Killian.” Emma smiled.

“Aye, the pleasure is mine Miss Swan.” Killian winked. “Fries are on the house.” Killian left to hand two men who sat at the other end of the bar two menus. Emma watched him leave. She finally found the perfect study spot. When her phone buzzed, she was startled. She hadn’t realized she was staring. Luckily, Killian didn’t either. 

August Booth to group: _pizza in 10_?

Robin Locksley to group: _god im starving_

Elsa Agnarr to group: _YES!_

Emma Swan to group: _Meet you there!_

Emma gathered her things and shoved them in her bag. Killian interrupted her. “Leaving so soon, love? I thought we were having fun.” He smirked. 

“You were having fun. I was studying. And now I have to go.” She shrugged.

“Who studies in a bar anyway?”

“Someone who’s really uninterested in who Josh was ‘undressing with his eyes’ at the Alpha Delta Whatever party last night.” Killian looked confused but played along.

“You know I never did like those ADW lasses. Someone should introduce them to the concept of winter clothing.” 

“I think it’s an all-boys fraternity.” Emma laughed. 

“Aye same difference.” Killian smiled. He enjoyed hearing Emma’s laugh. “Will I see you tomorrow Miss Swan?”

“Maybe.” She responded, leaving an air of mystery as she threw on her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Have a good night Killian. Maybe if you’re nice the ADW girls will tip you well.”

***

“Emma!” August shouted from a nearby booth at the pizza shop. She slid in across from him, said hello, and took her jacket off. “Elsa and Robin are on their way. I’m thinking we finally take the plunge and order a Hawaiian pie!” August was obsessed with getting them to eat pineapple on pizza. It was so not happening. 

“Absolutely not.” Emma laughed as August faked sadness. 

“One day, Swan, one day. So what have you been up to?” 

“I had work this morning and then spent the day attempting to understand macroeconomics.”

“Well that sounds better than Fundamentals of Biology.” They talked for a while about the classes they were taking this semester and how tired they were already of their general education requirements. Elsa and Robin walked in together about 10 minutes later. Their dorm halls were right next to each other so they usually took the bus together. August’s was a little closer to Collegetown. The four met in their Intro to Criticism and Theory class last semester. Four English majors all with different goals. Elsa wants to go to law school. Robin wants to go for his PHD and eventually be a professor. August wants to work for a publishing company. And Emma wants to be a writer. 

“Hey guys!” Elsa exclaims, sliding in next to August as Robin takes the seat next to Emma. 

“Emma, please tell me you didn’t let him order the pineapple. I’m begging. Just lie to me if you did to spare me for a while.” Robin says, dramatically, just to tease August.

“Oh please, it wouldn’t kill you just to try it!” August quips.

“Oh yes it would.” Robin responds as Elsa stands to head to the counter.

"Pepperoni, extra cheese?” Elsa asks.

“Count me in.” Emma says, starving. The free french fries from Killian weren’t enough after skipping a whole meal for the sake of macroeconomics, a subject that she quite literally does not care about. Elsa leaves to order the pie and the guys decide that tonight’s topic of debate is whether fairytales have basis in reality. Lost in her own thoughts, trying to remember the faint music playing in The Jolly Roger, the soft hum of Killian talking to someone in the kitchen, the muted TV above the bar turned to the news with subtitles, the awful coffee, the kindness in Killian’s voice as he warned her about the taste and the smugness as he teased her, clearly thinking the world of himself, and the darkness of his blue eyes. 

“Hello? Emma?” August says, snapping his fingers in front of her face to get her attention. “Earth to Emma we need your opinion.”

Elsa returned with a pitcher of cheap beer and four glasses. “So now what have you decided to argue about?”

“Debate.” Robin points out. “We’re debating how much basis, if any, fairytales have in reality. They’ve been appropriated so many times in 21st century media, it’s hard to believe that today they mean anything over than to placate children and enforce gender stereotypes. I mean what kind of lessons do young girls get from watching a girl fall in love with someone who holds her captive and treats her awulf? That ‘true love’ can change anyone?”

Robin’s area of study is fairytales, how old ones have evolved and how new ones are beginning, the original lessons behind them and the lessons the media has manipulated them to become, and, of course, why fairytales are so important to so many cultures. He’s a fan of playing devil’s advocate against himself, attempting to elicit ideas from the group to improve his own thoughts. He’s brilliant and these little debates they have at dinner have proven to be an excellent study method and quite entertaining. Once they spent hours yelling about whether different foods were salads or sandwiches. Don’t get them started on the classification of open-faced sandwiches. They still haven’t come to an agreement. What they have agreed on? Parking at Cornell is impossible because there aren’t enough spots, places that ID for alcohol are annoying (hence they come to this particular pizza place), Pennsylvania IDs are best for Fake IDs, Shakespeare is excellent but Romeo and Juliett is overrated and The Fool is one of the most fascinating characters ever written, August has the best apartment with the best movie collection, the best time to go to the local diner is 10:15 pm, and a good Google search will give you just about anything you need to know about someone. 

“True love is just a myth, something to keep you moving forward when it’s the last thing you want to do. It’s a nice myth that can make just about anyone reading about it smile, but a myth all the same.” Emma responded matter-of-factly. It’s not that she didn’t believe in love, but she didn’t believe that there was “true love” out there for every single person. She had seen too much disdain, too much hurt in her life to allow herself to believe that.

“BUT is it _based_ on something that _could_ be real or maybe _was_ real for someone at some point?” Robin probed as the pie was delivered to the table. 

“Oh I know who my true love is.” Elsa commented, grabbing a slice. Everyone stared at her waiting to hear more. “Obviously it’s Zac Efron.” Everyone laughed.

“Oh he is 100% gay.” August claimed. And thus began the real debate of the evening. Was Zac Efron gay? All phones were out, googling for evidence, sides were taken and laughs were had. 

***

When Emma returned to her apartment later, her roommate, Claire, told her someone left a package for her at the door. Emma found the plain brown package, her name beautifully written in calligraphy. There was no return address. 

“Do you know who left this?” Emma asked.

“No, we went out for coffee and came back to it.”

Emma took the package into her room and opened it. Inside there was a thick, brown leather journal. It was empty. No note or anything. Emma shrugged, thinking about how it came at the perfect time when she was starting to run out of room in her current journal. She placed the book on her desk, grabbed her laptop, and turned on Netflix. 

Little did she know the power that book would bring her. 


	2. Fall

_I've been beaten and broken and tread upon_

_I was made to feel stupid when I was young_

_And they say, "No" is the answer to the temptations_

_But when those demons come rushing, nowhere to run_

\- James Arthur, _Fall_

Every time Emma walked in the door of his pub, Killian smiled. She had become somewhat of a regular, usually ordering coffee and complaining about it even though she’s fully aware how terrible it is, and always sitting in the same spot at the end of the bar, closest to the window (which, conveniently, happens to be close to an outlet). She’s been coming in a few times a week for the past three weeks to study, and sometimes to share a drink with her friends. They usually exchange pleasantries when he brings her coffee, chatting only for a bit about how their days have been before he leaves her alone to do her work. When she’s had enough of doing work for the day, she always sparks some new topic of conversation. Sometimes she told him about a new book she discovered, or he told her about the music he’s playing through the speakers. They laughed at people slipping and falling on ice outside, which to them is hysterical although the people falling would say otherwise. 

One night Emma stayed later than usual on a Wednesday night. Luckily, the dinner rush wasn’t too distracting. In fact, Emma didn’t mind the noise at all. It wasn’t the anxiety-ridden whispers of the library filled with so much negative energy that it sucked everything out of her. It wasn’t the sound of her roommates ignoring their responsibilities, yelling with their significant others, or gossiping through all hours of the night. It was people simply being, enjoying a drink and a bite to eat, sometimes alone and sometimes with others. On weekdays the pub didn’t get crowded. Killian made most of his money from Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. He even got a solid crowd for Saturday and Sunday brunch because the really popular brunch places fill up early and have a long wait time. People who are uninterested in waiting or really want hangover food end up straggling over to him. He had Collegetown crowds down to a science. Apparently, so did Emma. She timed her visits ever so perfectly. 

That Wednesday night she was typing for hours. She came after her last class that ended at 6:15 and plopped herself down in her spot at the bar. A brunette she recognized from her macroeconomics class was waiting on tables while Killian managed the bar. 

“Did you know that some people are actually afraid of snow?” She said as she pulled her laptop out.

“Hello to you too, Miss Swan.” Killian smiled. 

“Apparently it’s called chionophobia.”

“Fascinating. Why do you know this?” 

“I fell down a YouTube rabbit hole and ended up on a video about phobias.” Emma admitted. 

“Aye. Of course you did,” Killian teased. “What are you working on tonight?”

Emma beamed. She loved when Killian asked about her classes. Growing up, she never had someone that would ask her about school when she got “home.” She always learned such fascinating things that she wanted to talk about. “I’m in a Short Stories class and our first assignment is due tomorrow so that we can peer workshop it. My first draft didn’t turn out the way I wanted to, but I had this revelation in the shower last night that I can’t wait to write but I have to write all 7,500 words tonight, and make it sound intelligent, and proofread it a million times.”

“Sounds like some sustenance is in order then,” Killian suggested.

“Grilled cheese?”

“You got it.” Killian turned to the brunette who was drying off some glasses at the other end of the bar. “Ruby! One grilled cheese. Tell Smee extra fires.”

“Sure thing!” Ruby went back to the kitchen after writing down the order on her pad and Emma went to work. Killian didn’t bother her for hours. He stole glances at her every now and again but was careful not to disturb her. She often looked frustrated and inspired at the same time. He smiled at the way she would pull her glasses off and rub her eyes when she was stuck, her brow furrowing as she glared, yes _glared_ , at her computer, as if she was trying to compel it to type the story for her. Sometimes she looked defeated, as if nothing she could write would be good enough. Sometimes she’d just look sad. She’d rest her head down on her arms until inspiration struck again. Killian wanted so badly to tell her that it’ll come together, to reassuringly touch her arm so she knew she had a friend. He didn’t though. Every time he was about to she’d pop back up and type furiously. 

Killian was closing around 10pm. He didn’t bother Emma though. He let her work until she couldn’t anymore. Ruby was helping him clean tables and set the chairs on top of them so that they could sweep the floors. When Killian returned to the bar to tidy it up, Emma finally realized that it was 10:30. 

“I’m so sorry. I lost track of time.” She said, closing her laptop. 

“Aye, no worries. Feel free to keep working. I have some things to do anyway.” Killian smiled, pulling out a large book. He did have some accounting to do, might as well balance the books now since he needed an excuse for Emma to stay. 

Emma worked for another two hours before taking her glasses off and officially closing her laptop. “Well there are words on a page. Not necessarily the best ones but at least it’s done.” 

Killian pulled out two glasses and his personal flask of the best rum from behind the bar, pouring a shot for them each. “I’d say that calls for a drink,” he said, handing her a glass, smiling.

“Cheers.” Emma gently tapped her class against his, smiling back. She downed the drink and placed her laptop back in her bag. “Thank you.”

“It looked like you were in, what do you call it? Your zone?” He was half-joking just to keep her smiling.

She playfully rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah. This assignment has been a pain in the ass. We were supposed to write some fictionalized version of a childhood memory.” Her smile faded as she watched Killian pour them each another drink.

“So what did you write about?” He inquired, curious to learn more about Emma outside of Cornell and Ithaca. He’s learned that she’s brilliant but she doesn’t believe so, an avid reader, works harder than anyone Killian has ever known, thoroughly dislikes economics, thinks daytime dramas are hysterically awful, loves the snow, grilled cheese, and hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon (she nearly bit his head off when he forgot the cinnamon once), and lives only a few blocks away. While they had become friends, neither of them talked about Emma’s life before Cornell or Killian’s life before a few months ago. They never spoke of family, only of friends, and the topic of future plans was only broached to the extent of Emma stating she wants to be a writer. Emma and Killian were very much stuck in the present.

“A friend.” Emma paused. “A former friend. I kept her name but . . .” She was looking down at the glass in her hands. 

“But?” Killian probed, cautiously.

“But shoplifting Pop-Tarts from a convenience store was turned into a quest to find the last remaining unicorn.”

While Killian wanted to ask about the shoplifting story, he instead asked, “Did they find it?”

“Well, kind of. The unicorn was really a metaphor for true friendship in a world where everyone is competing against each other, sabotaging one another’s plans to find the coveted beast. So they were the only ones who could find it because they worked together to solve the Sorcerer's message, steal the necklace from the fox’s cave, and free the unicorn to restore the joy the Evil Queen stole from the land when she locked the beast away.” Emma explained. While she was clearly proud of the story she had written, there was a tinge of sadness in her voice. Remembering and talking about her old friend often did that to her. Hence, she rarely did. 

“That’s quite the story, love.”

“Yeah?” 

“Does this look like the face of a liar to you?” He smirked, raising an eyebrow at her. She smiled, and playfully shoved his shoulder. 

And with that, they finally said goodnight.

***

Emma’s peer workshop went exceptionally well. She received excellent feedback from her group that she was excited to implement. Her classmates appeared to really enjoy her short. Naturally, she was confident going into the next workshop day the following Thursday. They were doing read-alouds where the whole class and the professor provided comments and critiques. 

Professor Gold seemed to be in an exceptionally generous mood today. His comments were mostly positive and whatever criticism he provided was constructive. He seemed to really care about helping his students become the best writers they could.

August volunteered to go first not because he thought his story was so incredible, but because he was genuinely stuck on certain parts and really needed good feedback to help his writer’s block. She was thankful to have August in her class. He was a friend who always supported her and was never afraid to tell her when she was being too stubborn for her own good. August was Emma’s closest friend of her small group. His apartment was only a 5 minute walk from hers. Even when Robin and Elsa were out yelling about whatever injustice was hot that week trying to get signatures for various petitions, August and Emma would often watch movies, waiting for their friends to come tell them about their day marching or protesting or canvassing. Sometimes they joined in, but no one has stamina for those things like Robin and Elsa. 

August’s story was excellent. It was based on his memory of lying to his dad when he was young about breaking a vase that was family heirloom. It was a cute take on Pinnochio where each lie told turned part of the boy into wood. In real life, he felt so guilty that after a week of torturing himself, he confessed and helped his dad glue the vase back together. He wanted a 3rd party to be a nudging force in helping him confess. When a classmate asked if he was looking for something like Jiminy Cricket, it clicked for him. August grew up in a small town in Maine and there was a beautiful pond that he went to all the time to feed the ducks and swans. 

Professor Gold laughed. “A talking swan! Very fairytale-like. It’s fitting.”

“But maybe the swan doesn’t talk? The silence forces him to keep talking and talking until he comes to realize for himself what he must do.” August responded.

“Excellent.” 

August told Emma that in real life his mom had seen the whole thing and he came clean because he was scared of his punishment if he continued to lie any further.

At last, it was Emma’s turn. She took a deep breath and stood, moving to the front of the class, her printed short in her hand. She reads her story and her classmates clap, as they do for everyone, and proceed to provide comments. She marks some of the spots her peers noted could use some touch ups with a pencil. Turning to her professor, Emma was shocked to see that he was giving her a disappointed look. Although Emma wouldn’t necessarily describe it as disappointed. It was more like shock, confusion, and distaste. 

“Emma what were you basing this story off of?” He asked her.

Emma wasn’t about to tell her professor at her Ivy League college that she had once had to shoplift to eat some nights. Partially because it was a crime, partially because she didn’t want his, or anyone else’s pitty. Except the admissions committee. But that part was over. 

“My friend Lilly lost her dog one summer. We thought he might be in the woods so we went looking for him.” She lied. “Why?”

“It just feels . . . childish.” Emma was shocked at her Professor’s words. 

“Childish?” She asked. Emma wasn’t even childish when she was an actual child. Group homes forced her to grow up fast.

“It was uninspired and predictable. Of course the children will free the . . . unicorn.” He said. “The writing is good, Emma, but the story itself is just flat.” 

“Well they’re not really children, they’re 13. They found each other during a curse that was designed to prevent friendship and love and joy but they saw through it and worked together. They didn’t want the beast for the selfish reasons the others did. They wanted to free it _for_ the others.” Emma defended her work. She had spent two weeks writing and perfecting it. It was a piece of writing that she was proud of, that she based on a person who was once so special to her, someone whose memory still hurts. The pain she felt writing this was far from childish. It was adult pain that she turned into this beautiful story of friendship in darkness.

“The premise isn’t bad. Something just isn’t there. It’s too . . . light. Superficial almost.” Professor Gold looked at the clock. Class was over. “Alright everyone, thank you for sharing. I look forward to reading your final drafts. Remember they’re due in person at the start of class next week.”

Emma felt defeated. Luckily she was stubborn enough to try her hardest to edit her story. She went to her desk and grabbed her bag. 

“Emma, can I see you for a moment?” Professor Gold said from the front of the room. Emma looked over to August. 

“I’ll meet you outside.” August said. He felt awful for his friend. What happened to her wasn’t fair. In fact, he loved her story. Some of it was filled with innocence but that was the whole point. He felt like he was there, in the forest, running alongside the narrator and Lilly. It was a story of hope, something Emma rarely expressed. In any talk of the future, she shrugs everything off with “we’ll see what happens” or some variation of it. He was so proud of his friend. And so very angry at their professor. 

When August left, Emma approached Professor Gold, speechless. She was embarrassed and upset. Honestly, she felt like she could throw up. “Yes Professor?”

“What’s your major, Emma?” He probed.

“English.” She responded in as few words as possible, her throat dry.

“And your concentration?”

“Creative Writing.”

“Hmm…” Professor Gold responded. “Have you considered Comparative Literature? Your story analyses have been quite good. But as the head of the English department I have to recommend that you keep your options open.”

“Keep my options open?”

“Consider other opportunities, other paths.”

“Right.” 

“Writing isn’t for everyone Emma. I just don’t think you have _it_.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I have this gift,” Professor Gold started, “and I hate to disappoint very intelligent students like yourself but I feel like it’s my job to tell you that I just don’t think you have what it takes to be a writer, Emma. I hope I’m doing you a favor.”

Emma just stood there.

Professor Gold filled the silence. “Feel free to come to my office hours tomorrow or Monday and we can work on your short together.” 

“Okay.” Emma said. “Thanks.” Leaving the class, the hallways were starting to empty as students found their way into their classrooms for their next classes. Emma’s day was over, thankfully. She started to walk towards the doors to where August was waiting for her outside. Her pace quickened and she shoved the door open. She couldn’t tell if she was going to be sick or hurt someone or hurt herself. She completely passed August who called after her, jogging to catch up.”

“Emma! Emma, wait up!” August called, jogging a bit to catch up with her and match her pace. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” She responded as tears began to fill her eyes.

“Emma it wasn’t nothing. What happened in class was so not fair to you. What did he say after?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well I am worrying about it!” 

“August please,” Emma stopped and turned to him. “Please, I just want to be alone.” August let her walk ahead, leaving her to be. He know arguing with her was no use. She was hurt and clearly needed time.

It was almost 5:45pm. Emma had been walking aimlessly around campus for an hour and a half. She was heading toward Collegetown. The stray tears that had escaped her eyes were freezing on her cheek. It was freeing but Emma felt nothing. She was numb to the world. The world that was crashing down around her, pulling out her one dream right from under her while the trust fund kids around her laughed and mocked her. She was a fraud from the start. Who was she to think that she could survive Cornell let alone do well here? The imposter syndrome was taking control. 

She walked right past her tiny apartment building. Before she knew it, she was in front of The Jolly Roger. She saw Killian through the window. He was at his usual spot at the bar. Emma was so mad. At herself. At her professor. At every high school teacher who ever told her that she had so much potential. At every group home that never cared enough to help her. 

Emma didn’t want Killian to see her like this. Her entire body was shaking from both her emotions and the cold. But Killian noticed her through the window. She raised her hand slightly to wave at him. He waved back, smiling at first before he noticed the sadness and the rage in her eyes. Instantly he reacted and made his way outside in nothing but his dark, fitted jeans, black button down, and black vest, not bothering to grab a jacket or anything. The door creaked when it opened. 

“Swan? Are you alright, love?” He asked gently.

Emma just looked down and shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. In the cold, as it started to snow, she told Killian everything. From the sleepless night editing her story, to the pain of remember an old friend who she misses even though she shouldn’t, to how Professor Gold ripped her apart in front of the entire class. 

But she refused to speak the rest of her professor’s words out loud, as if doing so would give him, would give them, power over her. So she left that out and told him _almost_ everything. He was freezing but he didn’t care. She was loud and she was cursing and Killian listened. While tears welled up in her eyes, she didn’t let a single one escape. Not until Killian wrapped his arms around her when she was finally quiet. With her face buried in the cook of his neck, Emma finally took a breath. 

Killian held her and the snow fell down around them. He didn’t mind the snow. There’s something magical about snow. Emma just needed someone to scream to. She needed someone to tell her everything would be okay just not in so many words. 

Her arms snaked around his waist, gripping him tightly like a child would clutch a teddy bear. Her hands turned to fists, gripping his shirt tightly. Killian was her rock, keeping her on the ground when she felt that she would float away and lose herself in the tornado that was her emotions. He gave her a minute, holding her silently until his face was stinging from the cold. “You need to eat something.” Kiliian said, moving to take her heavy backpack from her back to relieve her shoulders. 

Killian led her to her spot at the bar, setting her bag on the empty seat next to her, before popping into the kitchen to place an order for grilled cheese with extra fries. When he returned he handed her a glass of water that she graciously accepted. 

“I’m not a bad writer.” She said softly, almost as if she was talking to herself. 

“You’re not.” Killian affirmed, not that he’s read her writing. But he believes in her. 

“I fucking hate him.”

“I can kill him if you’d like.” Killian joked . . . sort of. Her professor really did sound awful and he really seemed to do a number on Emma before. He’s seen her after a bad grade on a pop quiz but this was different. He had a feeling Emma didn’t tell him the whole story either. He remembered that his grandfather, a former Irish Literature and Folklore professor at Cornell wasn’t fond of Professor Gold. _There’s something dark about that man_ , he would say.

Emma was so in her own head she didn’t hear him. Her hand was shaking as she reached into her bag to pull out the brown leather journal she had anonymously received. Dropping the thick book on the bar. 

“ _I'll show him childish_ ,” she whispered angrily to herself. Grabbing a pen, Emma seemed to enter into a trance as she dated the blank page. 

Writing was the only way Emma was ever able to get her emotions out. The physical transfer from her body to the paper was the only thing that soothed her. Her anger took over and controlled every tick of the pen. It was freeing to not have to think, to just write, to let emotions take over for a while so that they could let her go from the storm in her head. Her body was on fire, every inch of her buzzing with adrenaline as she wrote as fast as she could, attempting to keep up with the speed of her thoughts. 

In about 20 minutes, Killian brought her food. He waited to give her some time to calm down. He saw the darkness in her eyes, a darkness familiar to him. Emma looked at him, finally feeling like she could breathe. Writing was the catharsis she desperately needed. 

“Hungry?” He asked, setting the grilled cheese in front of her.

Emma nodded. “Starving.” She took a bite of the sandwich, realizing she actually had worked up quite an appetite. Comfort food was exactly what she needed. Killian glanced down at the open journal in front of her. Emma closed the book. 

“Sorry.” Killian said.

“I have a box of journals I’ve never let anyone read. They’re like my diaries but not? They’re mostly fictional stories. I guess that’s not a diary then.” Emma explained. “They’re just stories I’d rather not share. Half of them probably don’t even make sense. I just write until i can breathe.”

Killian nodded. He had his own outlets and his own secrets, a darkness that he was unwilling to share. “Fair enough Miss Swan.” Just then, someone slipped on some ice right outside of the pub and the two burst out laughing. Emma was laughing so hard she was crying. 

“A solid 7,” Emma said, wiping her eyes.

“Oi come on, love. That was at least an 8.” Killian quipped.

“No we reserved 8’s and above for people carrying things that end up going all over the place.” 

“Right! Like that poor kid with all those books.” Killian said, laughing as he remembered that day. They decided to rate the people slipping on the ice. It was cruel but it was also really funny. 

“He had a backpack! I don’t understand why he wasn’t using it!” 

They laughed a while more. Killian was trying to keep her smiling, although he didn’t have to try. Killians smile was contagious. Just being near him made Emma smile and the air easier to breathe. 

***

Back in her room that night, she finally checked her phone to a million messages in the group chat. Robin, Elsa, and August were desperately trying to make sure she was okay. 

Emma Swan to group: _I’m fine, sorry guys. I just needed to be alone for a while._

Elsa Agnarr to group: _What happened?_

Robin Locksley to group: _august keeps saying its too much to text???_

Elsa Agnarr to group: _was it a guy?_

Emma Swan to group: _It was stupid. Don’t worry about it I’m fine :)_

Elsa Agnarr to group: _*heart emoji*_

Elsa Agnarr to group: _we’re here for you if you need us_

August Booth to group: _ditto_

Robin Locksley to group: _so it was a guy_

Emma Swan to group: _No_

August Booth to group: _saturday 11am brunch and study date at my place?_

Elsa Agnarr to group: _talk then!_

Robin Locksley to group: _*Robin likes “saturday 11am brunch and study date at my place?”*_

Emma Swan to group: _*Emma likes “saturday 11am brunch and study date at my place?”*_

Emma Swan to group: _*Emma likes “talk then!”*_

Emma sets her phone down, lays in bed, and stares at the ceiling for a while before sleep takes over. As she sleeps, each word written in that journal glows as if someone, something, is reading. 

_And in the darkest corner of the bar he waited. He waited for the right moment when her eyes were on her friends, laughing as she danced to the music blasting through the speakers. She was having fun. Her smile was bright. To him, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Light was radiating from her, calling him to her. From the shadows he emerged when he watched her take a drink from her glass, only to set it down seconds after to rejoin her friends for what was apparently one of her “jams.”_

_He needed her in every way possible. The way her hips swayed to the music, the way she laughed, the way she pushed her hair out of her face drove him insane. No one should be this beautiful. No one deserves to be this beautiful. No one deserves to be this beautiful and not be his. He slipped out of his corner and in a calculated move, walked toward her drink, and opened a vile of clear, tasteless liquid that he poured in her drink. And then he waited._

_He waited for her to leave. He knew her routine. This wasn’t the first time he was watching her. She usually left a little early to go to bed. So it wouldn’t be unusual for her to leave early tonight. Which is exactly what she did._

_She told her friends she was getting a headache. She would see them tomorrow. But he knew she wouldn't. He knew what was going to happen. He knew her future. She knew nothing. She stumbled out of the bar, struggling a bit to put her jacket on. She made it about 23 steps before the drugs took over and she fell. Lucky for her, he was there to catch her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this way earlier than expected and it's much longer than expected. Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to come say hi on Tumblr! Find me as [ cluttermind ](https://cluttermind.tumblr.com/)


	3. No Judgement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading friends! I hope you like this one - I had a lot of fun (maybe too much fun) writing it. Here's a little fun fluff and sweetness and lots of pop culture references before things get ~interesting~
> 
> Next week will probably be a hiatus while I finish up some [online] finals but a LOT happens in ch 4 so I hope you stay with me!
> 
> Leave a comment for a message for me on Tumblr at [Cluttermind](https://cluttermind.tumblr.com/)

_ I can be your lover or your shoulder to cry on _

_ You can be whoever you like  _

_ When you're with me, no judgement _

_ You can get that from everyone else _

_ You don't have to prove nothing _

\- Nial Horan,  _ No Judgement _

Emma worked at the bookstore all day on Friday. Being there always made her feel a little better. She was surrounded by books and all the things Belle brought back from her excursions. Bell had recently gotten a new shipment from an independent publisher she had recently found. Rose and Petal Books, while stocking many popular titles, had an extensive collection of lesser-known novels from independent publishers along with a plethora of local authors. 

One book in particular caught her eye and there was only one copy sent in the box. The book was bound in a soft, brown leather with its title engraved and filled with gold foil on the cover in beautiful cursive.  _ Into The Page _ . There was no barcode to scan for inventory. 

“That’s odd.” Emma commented to herself, turning the thick book over in her hands. She opened it up to skim the pages and noticed that it was a journal filled with handwritten content. Something about the book felt faintly familiar. While the title was beautiful, there wasn’t anything remarkable about it. She figured it might have been someone’s manuscript that was sent to the publisher that got mixed in by accident. 

“Hey Belle,” she called to her boss who was at the register, reading. 

“Find something interesting?” Belle asked as she walked over to where Emma was in the back room. 

“I think they accidentally sent us someone’s manuscript?” Emma handed her the journal.

“Hm. That  _ is _ interesting.” Belle gently flipped through the book. “I’ll call the publisher tomorrow. It’s getting late, why don’t you head home for the night.” 

Emma looked at the clock. It was 8:00, only an hour till closing anyway. “Sure. I’ll see you next week?” Belle nodded and gave Emma a quick hug. Before leaving, she hung up her apron and turned her phone back on. Emma usually turns her phone off during work and uses the time as an escape from everything. There were a few texts coming into her group chat about the meeting Elsa and Robin were at. Essentially the meeting was going to run long, lots of signs needed to be made before Sunday’s protest about something or other. Emma wasn’t really up-to-date on this particular one. August offered to come help because he was bored. 

There was a text from her roommate Sarah to her and Claire that came in half an hour ago.

Sarah to group:  _ Hey, Josh is coming over to cook me dinner and you know ;) can y’all stay out till like midnight? Maybe 1 if things go really well ;) Don’t want any distractions tonight ladies _

Claire to group: _ Yeah I’m staying with Danielle tonight - we’re hitting up the Alpha Delta Pi party tonight  _

Emma sighed. Her friends were busy and she wasn't in the mood to spend hours making posters and signs after working all day. But the library would be open for a while longer. She could use the computers and scroll through Reddit for a few hours.

Emma to group:  _ Sure thing. Have fun :) _

Then she remembered someone she could waste some time with. She walked towards The Jolly Roger and opened the door. It was starting to get crowded but it wasn’t too hectic yet. Emma made her way to the bar and noticed Ruby there along with a man she hadn’t met yet. 

“Hey Ruby,” Emma said, smiling. She and Ruby had gotten to know each other since they had first met at the pub. Ruby was a junior majoring in art. She also hated Macroeconomics, the class they were in together, but it was filling a graduation requirement. They studied together a few times and always ended up begging Killian for free food. Emma always ended up paying though, sneaking the money under the plate before she left.

“Hey! Looks like you’re in better spirits today. You okay?” Ruby responded, referencing the previous night that Emma would very much like to forget.

“Nothing that sleep couldn’t fix,” she lied. While the initial shock of yesterday was gone, the pain, the anger, the self-doubt still lingered. 

“If you’re looking for the Captain he’s upstairs.”

“What?” Blush rose to Emma’s face.

“Killian. He’s upstairs. Took the night off. Just take the stairs behind the bar, walk two floors up and you’ll be at his door. I’m sure he won’t mind!” Ruby explained. 

“Oh. Thanks.” Emma headed up the stairs, and hesitated at the door. Through it she could hear the sound of a guitar strumming. Maybe he didn’t want company. Maybe he’d rather be alone. Maybe he didn’t want to see  _ her _ . She could just go back and sit at the bar and talk to Ruby for a while. They weren’t super close but she could find things for them to talk about. It was also getting busy downstairs though.  _ Pull it together Emma. _ She knocked on the door. 

The sound of the guitar stopped and seconds later Killian opened the door. He was surprised and happy to see her. “Hello, Swan. What brings you here? A little early for a booty call no?” Killian grinned, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Oh it’s never too early,” Emma played along staring right at Killian who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed at his chest. “My roommate sexiled me and I needed somewhere to crash for a while.” 

Killian stepped aside to let her in. He was wearing just a plain black v-neck t-shirt and grey joggers. It was odd seeing him out of his work attire - a black button down with two buttons undone at the top and dark, a black vest, and slim-fitted jeans. He watched her as she walked in and closed the door, distracted by her being. 

“Sexiled?” Killian teased. “Well if you insist, love. Can’t leave a beautiful woman unsatisfied now, could we?” Emma slapped his arm.

“You know what it means. Sarah kicked me out so she could fuck her boyfriend without interruption. Honestly the warning was appreciated because even my ear buds can’t tune her out.” Emma explained. She took her jacket off and draped it over a stool at Killian’s kitchen Island. His apartment was beautiful. It was an open concept with a gorgeous kitchen, a beautiful island, a ridiculously comfortable sectional, with an oversized chase at one end and a large TV mounted to the wall. Speakers were all over. The doors to his bedroom with glass french doors, making the one-bedroom apartment look bigger than it is. “Sorry for not texting before, I thought you’d be working and was coming to sit at the bar for a while. Ruby told me you were up here.”

“No worries, love. I quite enjoy the company,” Killian said, moving to flop down on the chaise part of the couch. “And it’s clear that you find me so irresistible that you just had to see me tonight instead of one of your other friends.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh I can resist you just fine. Everyone else was busy.”

“Ouch!” Killian feigned pain, his hand going to his heart. “So I was your second choice.”

“4th actually.” Emma teased.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He winked and patted the spot next to him. “How about a movie? Anything in particular you’re interested in watching?” 

Emma kicked her boots off and flopped down next to him. They were so close their arms and legs were touching. He nudged her foot playfully and he turned on the TV and opened Netflix. She shrugged against him. “Whatever you’re watching is fine. I don’t want to disrupt your evening.”

“You’re not disrupting anything, love.” Killian responded, handing her the remote. “Snacks?” He got up, taking the warmth of his body with him and Emma suddenly missed the closeness. 

“When have I ever turned down food?” Killian laughed. She adored the sound of his laugh. It always made her smile. Emma scrolled through Killian’s watch list on Netflix.  _ Ozark, The Witcher, The West Wing, Grey’s Anatomy _ . The last one made Emma giggle under her breath.  _ So Mr. Bartender is a Grey’s fan.  _ She made a mental note to tease him about that later. Not like she was the one to speak though. Ever since August let her use his Netflix account she’s been on that binge as well. Killian tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave. “How was your day?” Emma asked, genuinely caring about the answer.

Killian groaned. “Infuriating. It was a lot of inventory and ordering and arguing to get things here on time. I prefer working the bar to that any day. How was yours?”

“Eh, it was fine. I spent all day working down at The Rose and Petal.”

“The bookstore?”

“Yup.”

“Aye, my grandad loved it there. Belle still owns it?”

“She does. Your grandfather lives here? What’s his name? Maybe I’ve seen him.”

Killian leaned back against the island, gripping it a little tighter as his eyes moved from Emma to the floor. “Nah, love. He used to live here. He passed away 2 years ago, just after I opened the pub.”

Emma’s face softened. “Killian, I’m so sorry.”

He looked up at Emma. “He was a professor at Cornell. In the English department actually.” He tilted his head and smiled a bit. “You remind me a bit of him.”

Emma smiled back. “How so?”

“He loved academia and his research and teaching. He always had a book in his hand. Sometimes he’d lose all track of the world around him when he was working or reading. He was a fountain of useless knowledge. He knew little about music but always asked me what I was listening to, only took his coffee black except for at the pub, and asked me how my day was every time I saw him and always cared about what the answer was.” Killian reminisced. He had spent nearly every summer growing up in Ithaca with his grandma and granddad. Killian still couldn’t believe that he’s gone. “He always made me smile and loved telling me about what he was reading. He was my best friend.”

“He sounds wonderful.” Emma noted, blush creeping to her cheeks feeling both sad for Killian’s loss and flattered at the sentiment that she reminded me of someone he clearly loved so deeply. When Emma wasn’t physically at The Jolly Roger or with her friends or at work, she was usually texting Killian. They talked about nonsense most of the time but there was something comforting seeing his name pop up on her phone after long days. In retrospect, she wasn’t surprised that it was him she made her way to last night when life had shaken her to her core. Emma knew he’d be the one to help her hold the broken pieces together. If she was being honest with herself, it still felt as if those pieces were scattered on the floor. And from the look in his eyes, she could tell he had some pieces there as well.

“Aye. Wonderful.” Killian said. Although it was unclear who exactly he was talking about as he looked at her. Just then the microwave went off, breaking his trance. He opened the hot bag and poured the popcorn into a bowl. “So what’re we watching?” He asked, reaching to grab and open a bottle of wine.

“Well I saw this really fascinating documentary on sharks the other day that I wanted to show you.” Emma explained.

“Sharks, huh? What about them?” KIllian asked, intrigued. 

Emma brightened, and animatedly explained the general plot. “So there’s this group of sharks that are living in the water around New York City. And there’s this big storm that’s coming, but no one is listening to the people telling them about the storm so of course no one prepares for the storm. So two tornadoes form over the water picking up all the sharks -” 

“Emma.” Killian interrupts her, turning to look at her. “That’s the plot of Sharknado.”

“Sharknado 2: The Second One actually.” She corrects him. 

“We are not watching Sharknado 2.” Killian says, chuckling. He hands her a glass of white wine which she accepts as he takes his place on the couch next to her.

“Sharknado 1?” 

“Swan.”

“You mean to tell me you have no desire to watch Ian Ziering fight some flying CGI sharks?” She joked. She was clearly teasing him, enjoying the way he laughed at her ridiculous suggestions. Truth be told she’s seen all the movies multiple times. Who doesn’t love a flying CGI shark and an awful romance plot? Emma and her friends had multiple drunk movie nights last semester to watch them all. They provided a good laugh.

Killian laughed. “Aye, how about a real movie?”

“A  _ REAL _ movie?” Emma feigned offense. “Clearly you have no respect for low-budget disaster films.” She grabbed a handful of popcorn, popping some into her mouth. 

Killian nudged her playfully. “I think the low budget disaster movies have no respect for the viewers.” 

“That’s the point! But fine.” Emma paused, thinking of a movie. “How about Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No?”

“Again with the flying sharks! You know that you have not listed a single shark documentary yet, love.” Killian jokes, taking a sip of wine.

“What about The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society?” Emma said, taking some popcorn. “It’s one of my favorites. Also Sharknado 4: The 4th Awakens, Sharknado 5: Global Swarming, and The Last Sharknado: It’s About Time are just not as good as the first three so I’m out of flying shark suggestions.” Killian stared at her, jaw nearly hitting the floor at the absurdity of the existence of 6 Sharknado movies and the fact that Emma has clearly seen them all. But her actual suggestion was sincere. It was an intriguing story of love and war and literature that Emma had seen at least 10 times. It reminded her of the power that books had.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Killian said eventually, choosing to let the Sharknado movies go. He searched for the film on Netflix and hit play when he found it.

About 20 minutes and a glass of wine later, Emma had snuggled closer to Killian. Partially for warmth, partially because her body reacted instinctively to his being so close. Killian, feeling that Emma was cold against him, reached behind them to grab a blanket, tossing it over them and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned in closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. 

Her favorite film about writers and readers and the power of literature and love pulled all of the pain of the events of yesterday back to the surface. The weight of her professor’s words were sitting on her chest like a boulder and she couldn’t bear that weight alone anymore Eventually, Emma spoke softly. “I didn’t tell you the whole story last night.” The words spilled effortlessly out of her mouth. There was something about Killian that made her feel safe. 

Killians eyes stayed on the movie as he rubbed his thumb reassuringly over her shoulder. “Aye, I figured.” He wasn’t about to push her to tell him. He wanted to let her know that he saw her and that she could some to him on her own terms. 

“Professor Gold told me I shouldn’t be a writer. That I don’t have what it takes and that I should consider another career.” This caught Killian’s attention. He shifted so he was looking right at her.

“What?!” Killian’s accent was thick with concern. 

“He was apparently doing me a favor.” Her eyes were wet. Control was slipping from her grasp. She desperately needed to let go. Emma had tried so desperately to tell herself that none of her professor’s words mattered, to pretend like they didn’t affect her. Truth be told, she barely slept last night, constantly being woken up by recurring thoughts that he was right, that she wasn’t good enough, that she was a fraud. 

“What kind of person thinks that’s a bloody favor?” Killian interrupted the tightening spiral of her thoughts. 

Emma paused, letting the spiral start to slowly unwind. “What if he’s right?” She whispered. The question she’d been asking herself she had finally said out loud. A single tear escaped from her eye that Killian was quick to wipe away.

“He’s wrong. And you’re too stubborn to let him be right.”

“I just - I don’t know if I can do this.” Emma fell apart. She had held everything together until this moment. She didn’t know if she had what it took to survive Cornell. She didn’t have the support system most people had and she certainly didn’t have the resources others did growing up. Her average grades weren’t helping her imposter syndrome. What if she was here by mistake? What if she would never be good enough? What if she didn’t deserve to be here? Tears escaped her eyes faster than Killian could wipe them away.

Killian pulled her close, rubbing her back. “Shhh, love. Shhh. Yes you can.” He kissed the top of her head. Why? He had absolutely no idea. He hoped it would comfort her. “You made it this far. You got here. You got to this point. Fuck what Gold says. Fuck what anyone says.” Emma let herself relax into his arms locked tightly around her as she choked on sobs, tears falling to his shirt. 

Then Killian remembered what his brother used to say to him when he was struggling. “You get to make your own choices. Make them based on what makes  _ you _ happy.” He gently brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Does writing make you happy?”

Emma looked up at him. “It’s the only thing that makes me happy.”

“Oi, now I’m slightly offended!” He joked, smiling at her.

Emma tried to fight the smile pulling at her lips. “Your ego is ridiculous.” 

“But I got you to smile, no?” 

“You always do.” Emma wasn’t joking anymore. The way he looked at her made her heart skip beats and the way he cared for her scared the hell out of her. Something about Killian drew her to him and she didn’t doubt he felt the same. He ensured she was fed during late night studying and provided distractions when she needed a break. It was Killian she found herself going to when she needed to scream to someone.

They returned their attention to the film. While Killian had no idea what was going on, Emma was mesmerized, whispering some of her favorite lines under her breath along with the movie. Killian spent more time watching her than the move, enamored by the way she memorized her favorite parts, the way her brow furrowed when characters she didn’t like appeared, the way she gently hit his chest to shush him every time he attempted to ask what was happening or who a particular character was. 

Eventually the movie ended. Emma reluctantly sat up, sighing as she removed herself from Killian’s arms and the warmth of his body.

“Thank you for letting me interrupt your evening. It was nice to be in a bubble for a bit and feel something other then . . . I don’t even know.” Emma said quietly. Killian turned to look at her.

“Then stay in the bubble for a while longer, love.” He held his arm out to her and she settled against him. Emma rested her head on Killian’s chest, draping her arm around his waist. His fingers traced lazy circles on her back. He wanted to be her escape, her bubble where things were good and where she could cry if she needed to. And she had the urge to be his. 

For a while they laid like that - content in each other’s arms, clueless to the world around them, shutting out all the pain they both felt. In time they fell asleep for the most restful night either of them had in a long time. 


	4. Smoke and Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would take a lot longer to write than it did. This one kind of wrote itself.
> 
> I'm adding a trigger warning as the end of this one is a little dark. I hope you enjoy it either way! Things are really starting to move forward plot wise :)
> 
> TW: implied attempted sexual assault and under-aged drinking.

_ I heard the church bells from afar _

_ But we found each other in the dark _

_ And when the smoke does finally pass _

_ We will rise above all the ash _

\- City and Colour,  _ We Found Each Other In The Dark _

“It’s open!” August shouted from the kitchen of his large studio apartment. Emma opened the door and stepped in. “Emma! You’re late!” Ela and Robin called out hellos from their spots around the coffee table.

“Yeah I didn’t sleep much last night. What’s for brunch?” She asked, walking to take her seat next to Elsa on the floor in front of the couch.

“Chocolate chip pancakes” Elsa said, licking her lips. “Hurry up, August! I’m starving!” She whined dramatically, nudging Emma.

“Yeah August. Hurry before we perish.” Emma played along with Elsa, attempting to rile August. Robin chuckled, rolling his eyes at their antics. He was sitting across from Elsa, his laptop already open on the coffee table, typing away at a paper due in a few days.

“Nope. You were late. You can perish.” August retorted, flipping pancakes to be added to the growing pile next to him.

Emma gasped playfully. “Rude.” She pulled out her macroeconomics textbook just as her phone buzzed.

Killian Jones:  _ Leaving before I wake up? Classy, Swan ;)  _

Emma Swan:  _ I left a note!  _

Killian Jones:  _ But without a kiss goodbye _

Emma grinned at her phone like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Emma Swan:  _ Then I guess it wasn’t goodbye ;) _

“Well, well, well.” Elsa toyed, “Who are you texting Emma Swan?” August finally finished making an enormous pile of pancakes and brought the tray over to the table. Robin helped by running to grab some plates and silverware.

“Oh uhm Ruby.” Emma lied. “We’re joking about how awful our econ professor is.”

“Well I’m more interested in what the hell happened on Thursday,” Robin chimed in, handing Emma a plate. So much for being in a bubble. 

Emma took a deep breath, hugged her knees to her chest and gave them the CliffNotes version of the story. Elsa rubbed her back the entire time. Saying it out loud somehow didn’t crush her they way it had before, as if the words no longer carried the weight they once did. 

“Emma that’s awful!” Elsa nearly yelled when she finished speaking. “Don’t listen to a word he says. What kind of professor does that?!”

“What did he say to you after class?” August asked between taking bites of his pancakes.

“That I don’t have what it takes to be a writer.” Emma said, pausing, Killian’s words from last night echoing in her head.  _ You get to make your own choices. Make them based on what makes you happy.  _ “But he’s wrong.” 

Her friends, being the wonderful, supportive people they are, stood strongly by her side. Yelling to each other how ridiculous this professor is, how he shouldn’t be a professor, and how brilliant their friend is. In that moment, Emma felt the least alone she had ever felt - surrounded by intelligent, kind, and loving friends who taught her what it means to be a part of a family. Because that’s what they were to her. They were her family. Her beautiful, ridiculous family. 

After the yelling had died down and the excessively large pile of pancakes had been eaten, they spent all day studying, taking only a few short snack breaks. Before they knew it, it was dark outside. It was usually around now that they’d quit for the night, having finished enough to go the rest of the weekend relaxing. August nearly slammed his book shut, making the rest of them flinch. 

“Geez, August. What’d the book ever do to you?” Robin asked.

“It existed.” August quipped, dramatically. “Can we be done? I need to be done.”

“I think I’ve done all I can for this weekend too.” Elsa said, closing her laptop. “What’re we doing tonight? Movies? Pizza?”

“I could go for a drink, honesty.” Robin responded, mirroring Elsa as he closed his own laptop. 

“Drinks anywhere that also has food is usually expensive.” Emma stated.

“Yeah I guess.” August paused. “Oh! What about The Jolly Roger? It’s not that expensive right? Plus if I remember correctly, their onion rings are insane.” August was nearly salivating remembering the onion rings. The last time they had gone together was sometime last semester to celebrate the end of midterms.

“Right! I forgot how good those were.” Elsa responded. “Okay if we’re actually going out I need to change.”

“I’m so hungry. You look fine. Let’s just go.” August responded. Emma giggled about how the tables have turned since this morning when they were the ones complaining about being hungry. 

“I’m not going to a bar in leggings and a sweatshirt.” Elsa threw her things in her bag. “Emma and I will meet you guys there in an hour. I have this beautiful dress that you just have to wear tonight.”

“Oh this isn’t an outing outing! We’re going for food!” Robin groaned.

“If we’re going to a bar, we’re  _ going to a bar _ . It’s been way too long since we actually went out.” Elsa claimed. There was no arguing with her. She was pretty determined to make this happen. Plus, she wasn’t wrong. It had been a while since they went out together. She considered texting Killian to make sure he was working, but she knew he would be since he took yesterday off and thought she’d surprise him.

Emma shrugged and grabbed her things while August grumbled, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on for a bit. She followed Elsa out the door. At Elsa’s dorm, she handed Emma a simple, low cut, black dress. It was tight, ruched, and hugged her in all the right places. And the glitter got everywhere. Despite Emma’s protests about the glitter, Elsa insisted she wear it. She also insisted that Emma let her do her makeup and that she wear the black heals that ‘go so perfectly with it it’d be a cardinal sin not to wear them.’ Eventually Emma got to look at herself in the mirror, her dainty gold chain with a small gold book charm falling against her bare chest above the deep neckline of the black dress. Elsa was right, the shoes did go perfectly. And her red leather jacket actually pulled the look together. 

Except it was freezing outside. Like actually freezing. All she wanted was her sweatshirt that was in her backpack that was now sitting in Elsa’s room.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Emma said, shivering as they waited for the bus. 

“Oh come on! It’s not that cold. Plus you look great.”

“August might kill us. We’re so late.”

“We’re 20 minutes late.”

“We’re 30 minutes late Elsa.” Emma laughed as Elsa shugged, clearly not caring about August’s desire for food as they finally stepped onto the slightly crowded bus.

“August will live.”

“I’m more concerned about Robin having to deal with him.” Really what Emma was nervous about was seeing Killian. Butterflies filled her stomach when she thought about seeing him in something other than jeans and a sweater. 

15 minutes later, they walked through the doors of The Jolly Roger 45 minutes late. Emma was grateful for the warmth of the pub. She instantly spotted August waving them over. He and Robin had already ordered and had food in front of them. 

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Robin joked, drinking the last of his beer. 

“Blame Elsa.” Emma playfully nudged her friend next to her.

“Fine fine. This round’s on me. Emma help me with the drinks?” Elsa said, leading them to the bar. 

That’s when Emma saw him, handing a customer a drink at the bar. Part of her wanted to run and hir, the other part of her wanted to run to him. He looked up from his customer and looked in her direction. She swore her heart nearly stopped when he smiled at her, eyes drinking her in. 

“Swan.” Killian said, grinning at her as they approached. “Isn’t this a surprise. I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” 

_ I did say it wasn’t goodbye earlier, didn’t I? _ Emma thought.

“You two know each other?” Elsa asked.

“Aye. We do.” Killian said.

“Killian owns the pub. I come here to study during the week when it’s quiet. Sometimes he feeds me.” Emma said. Killian raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay fine. He feeds me a lot. Killian this is my friend Elsa. Elsa, this is Killian.” Elsa was staring wide-eyed at Emma, mouth open, silently screaming  _ how did you not tell me about him?! _

“Nice to meet you lass.” Killian said politely. His eyes, however, never left Emma’s and Elsa turned her attention back to him. “What can I get you?” 

“4 beers and 4 shots of tequila.” Elsa chimed.

“Grilled cheese?” Killian asked Emma.

“With onion rings apparently. The thought of Smee’s onion rings were making August drool earlier. And make it two.” She responded as Killian poured their shots and set them in front of them. Elsa carefully grabbed three of them, letting Emma know she’ll meet her back at the table. Emma downed her shot quickly, wincing as the clear liquid burned her throat. Killian’s gaze sent a warmth up her neck and to her cheeks. 

“You look nice, Swan.” He said eventually, pouring them each a shot. Killian held his glass to gently tap it against hers. They both downed the shot. 

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Aye, I know that, love. But I wear this every day.” Killian leaned forward on the bar in front of her. “So what’s the fun fact of the day?”

Emma looked confused. “The what?”

“You usually greet me with a weird fact whenever you come in here.” He paid attention.  _ He listened to me _ , Emma thought. Part of her thought he never paid attention to the random things that came out of her mouth. She smiled. He was listening. 

So she took a risk. “The whole button down, vest, fitted jeans thing really works for you.” Emma flirted. 

Killian took the bait, smirking and raising an eyebrow at her, his voice dropping to a place she hadn’t heard before. “That black dress is really working for me. And I happen to quite like the red leather, love” Emma blushed bright red, her face matching the color of her jacket, and Killian pushed back against the bar, standing straight again. “Your friends are waiting for you. I’ll have Ruby bring your drinks in a second.”

“Tell Smee to rush that grilled cheese. I’m starving.” Emma said as she walked away, returning to the table her friends were at. 

“Excuse me but who was that?  _ What _ was that?” Elsa asked immediately. 

“He’s the owner. I told you.” Emma stated, trying to avoid  _ that _ conversation. “We’re friends.”

“Yeah, okay.” Elsa scoffed. Ruby brought over their drinks and another round of shots, and Elsa’s attention was suddenly elsewhere. 

“Hey Emma! The shots are on the Captain.” Ruby said as she set everything down. “Anything else I can get you?” 

Emma looked over at the bar to see Killian wink at her. She smiled and rolled her eyes at him. “I think we’re good."

For over an hour, they ate a little too much, drank a bit, and gossiped a little too much about the rumor going around the English Department that a student was sleeping with a professor. After a while Elsa went to get another drink and Robin went to talk to some friends in one of his classes, leaving August and Emma alone at the table. 

“Elsa’s flirting with the bartender.” August commented. 

Emma's eyes went wide with . . . jealousy? Not that Emma had any reason to be jealous. Killian could flirt with whomever he chose to. They spent one night together, literally sleeping. It didn’t mean anything.  _ Did it? _

August noted her confusion and nodded his head in Elsa’s direction. Emma turned to look where he was motioning to. Elsa was leaning forward on the bar talking to Ruby. They were giggling and Elsa was blushing, sipping on her drink. 

“She looks happy” Emma smiled. “And they’re definitely flirting.”

“Oh yeah they’re not subtle at all.” 

A song came over the speakers that Elsa and Emma both love. Emma watched as Ruby bothered Killian into turning the volume up and Elsa looked back at Emma, grinning from ear to ear. They had danced to this song hundreds of times in Elsa’s dorm and August’s apartment. Elsa nearly ran over to her, pulling her to her feet. They were nearly screaming the lyrics at each other, their hips swaying with the music. It wasn’t long before most of the pub was dancing with them.

Killian laughed as he watched Emma. He had never seen her this carefree, this full of life. The sight of her with her friends having fun sent a shiver of warmth through his body. As unsettling as that was, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, wanting to save this image of her forever.

“Dance with her.” Ruby said to him, pulling Killian out of the trance Emma had put him in. 

“What?”

“Go dance with her. I’ll manage the bar for a bit.” Ruby held her hand out for his phone so she could keep the music going. He rolled his eyes, handing it over. As the song ended Ruby kept the energy going by putting on one of her carefully curated dance party playlists.

Killian snuck up behind Emma, hands grabbing her waist from behind. “Hi, love,” he said into her ear, laughing as she squealed from the unexpected touch

Emma turned her head back to smile at him, recognizing his thick accent. “Killian!” She laughed, clearly a little tipsy by now. Emma leaned back against him, her body still swaying with the beat of the music that somehow keeps getting louder, her ass moving fluidly against his hips. Elsa bounced away, making her way over to Ruby at the bar, leaving Emma and Killian as alone as two people could be in a crowded pub. 

Killian ran his hands up her sides, entirely lost in Emma and the music. She turned around, laughing in his arms. Her hands rested on his shoulders and his found their place on her hips, pulling her close to him. 

She was singing along to the music entirely off key on purpose And he laughed at her, his body moving easily with and against hers. Killing kept her tight against him. If he wasn’t working, if they weren’t in a crowded room, Emma might find her hands wandering places other than where they were playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Killian’s blue eyes locked on hers and she struggled to catch her breath. Emma’s entire body was humming in reaction to the way he looked at her and the way his hands rested possessively on her hips. Suddenly Emma crashed her lips against his, pulling him closer to her. Shocked for a brief second, Killian’s eyes shut as he kissed her back, his passion, his eagerness matching Emma’s. His arms wrapped tightly around her and the world fell away around them. Emma’s entire body was on fire as she kissed him. She kissed him like she had been waiting to kiss him her whole life. He kissed her like she could heal every broken piece of him. 

Then the song changed and Killian pulled back. 

“Wow” Emma breathed, finally releasing the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding for so long. 

“Aye." He grinned. "I have to get back to work, love,” Killian said, a tinge of disappointment noticeable in his voice as he stepped back, putting distance between them. “To be continued.” 

Emma smirked at him as she made her way back to her table. August was lost in the crowd, as was Robin. She finished off the rest of her drink before joining Elsa, who was clearly oblivious to everything other than the cute bartender in front of her. Emma bumped her with her hip playfully. 

“So he’s  _ hot _ .” Elsa whispered, barely loud enough for Emma to hear over the music. 

“He’s not bad.” Emma smirked before confiding in her friend. “I kissed him.”

“Stop.” Elsa gasped. “Tell me everything.” 

“Oi, love. I didn’t take you to be the type to kiss and tell.” She heard Killian tease. Her face went bright red. She hadn’t realized he was standing so close or that she was talking as loud as she was. 

“Eh it was average.” Emma teased back, pretending to ignore him while she continued her conversation with Elsa. “He could use some practice.” 

Killian raised his eyebrows at her, and leaned in towards her across the bar. “Is that a proposition, Swan?”

“Potentially.” Emma’s head was starting to spin. “I think I’m going to head home though. I have a bit of a headache.” 

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Elsa asked.

“Nah it’s just a few blocks. I’ll be fine. You have fun.” Emma said. “Do you know where August and Robin went?”

“Robin left a few minutes ago with that girl from his philosophy class. I think her name was Regina?”

“Hm go Robin.”

“August’s at the other end of the bar with some guys I don’t know.” 

“Ah well, I’ll let him be. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Emma asked, pulling Elsa into a hug.

“Definitely.” 

Emma grabbed her jacket, bracing herself against the cold as much as possible. Everything was spinning around her. She didn’t remember having that much to drink. Her head was killing her. She stumbled a bit.  _ These damn shoes _ . She felt sick, and dizzy, and weak. She heard footsteps behind her. Her legs gave out beneath her. Someone grabbed her upper arm tightly - too tightly - to keep her upright. Emma flinched at the pain in her arm. Suddenly her body was flush against another's, someone who she didn’t recognize. 

“Let go.” Emma protested as much as she could but her body was betraying her. 

“Shut up,” the man snarled at her. His voice was dark and rough. 

It hit Emma like an earthquake, slow and confusing at first before the earth split beneath her. It hit her that this wouldn’t end well. There were few versions of stories like this that did. As a writer, as a woman, she knew. Emma didn’t know when she started crying. The cold wind felt colder against her wet cheeks and the dread of what would come next filled every fiber of her being. 

And while she wasn’t religious, a familiar prayer popped into her head, a shadow of a memory from some of the religious-based group homes she had found herself in. 

_ Hail Mary, full of Grace  _

She wanted to jerk her arm out of his grip, hit him wherever she was able too. She couldn’t tell if it was the fear or something else that was paralyzing her. 

_ The Lord is with Thee _

He walked her a few steps forward, her feet dragging against the sidewalk.  _ No. No. No. Please. _ Even her voice was betraying her. His grip on her arm tightened when she tried everything she could to pull away. 

_ Blessed art thou among women _

Her body was trembling yet her mind was blank. Thoughts beyond the plea to a God she didn’t believe in were unable, unwilling to form. Emma refused to think about anything beyond the time it took for one foot to be dragged in front of the other. She couldn’t remember the next line of the prayer. She skipped it. Everything was simultaneously happening too fast and too slow.

_ Hail Mary, Mother of God _

She could barely keep her eyes open or her body standing. She had to lean against  _ him _ for support. This made Emma sick to her stomach. Tears fell faster as she begged to see tomorrow.

_ Pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death -- _

“Swan! You forgot your phone!” Killian called as he ran out to catch Emma. His voice cut through the night, interrupting the final word of her petition.

“LET HER GO!” She heard Killian run towards her. 

The man in the hoodie cursed when he heard Killian’s voice and ripped Emma’s necklace from her neck. “I’ll get you one day, pretty. One day you’ll really fall and I’ll be waiting,” he whispered harshly. The man tossed Emma to the ground, discarding her from his grip, before sprinting away. Her head hit the concrete sidewalk. Pain and relief and fear and disgust and guilt washed over her.

Killian was kneeling at her side in an instant. “Emma, are you okay?” His accent was thick with concern as he lifted her head off the sidewalk. Everything was still spinning. Everything was still slipping away. 

She opened her wet eyes to see Killian close to her. Everything was going dark. Everything was spinning. The only thing in focus was Killian’s blue eyes. Emma felt like she was drowning and the world around her was going dark.

Even though she felt herself sinking deeper, Killian’s touch, his presence, his voice gave her the strength to allow the word she’d been wanting to scream for the past minute and a half finally escape her lips. 

“Help.” 


	5. Never Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support and for reading this far! Thank you all so much for reading this far, for the comments, and for the kudos. I truly appreciate all of you!

_ When the good times go bad _

_ When the tears start to flow _

_ You can ever be glad _

_ You're never alone _

_ You're never alone _

_ And when you're lost out at sea _

_ And the winds chill your bones _

_ You can count on me _

_ You're never alone _

\- Nathan Angelo,  _ Count On Me _

_ I was in the library. The mutterings in the halls that day were filled with news that Ivies had started to send out decisions. A mix of my classmates had been accepted, rejected, and waitlisted. All I wanted was to get out of this town on her own accord, make her own decisions, and finally have control.  _

_ I was at one of the computers, email and password typed in. I couldn’t bring myself to hit enter. I didn’t want to face the likely disappointment that waited for me on the other side of the log-in screen. What Ivy League would want an orphan who had to live in her tiny Bug just to have a consistent transcript? What Ivy League want’s a girl who’s gotten busted for shoplifting more times than she could count because she needed to eat? What Ivy League would want someone like me? _

_ “Emma dear, what’s wrong?” I was startled out of my thoughts when I heard her voice behind me.  _

_ “Mary Margret.” I sighed, turning to her. Mary Margret was the one who helped me apply for application fee waivers, fill out my college applications, study for my AP exams and SAT exams. She was the only person who ever really cared about me. “Ivies apparently started to send out decisions.” _

_ She set her hands on my shoulders. “Let’s find out for ourselves, shall we?” I clicked the log in button and held my breath.  _

_ Congratulations, Emma Swan! We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted to . . .  _

_ Yale.  _

_ Columbia.  _

_ Harvard.  _

_ Cornell.  _

_ My eyes were wide. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Mary Margret nearly yelled behind me, releasing her grip on my shoulders only to wrap her arms around me. Tears began falling down my face.  _

_ “I got almost a full scholarship to Cornell.” I had to say the words out loud. Otherwise, it would’ve felt too much like a dream.  _

_ “I told you, Emma! I’m so proud of you!” _

_ Proud. No one had ever told her they were proud of her.  _

_ “I have something for you.” Mary Margret said before scurrying back to the librarian desk. She returned with a small black jewelry box. “I wanted to give it to you for your graduation but I just can't wait!”  _

_ I opened the box and inside was a beautiful, dainty 14K gold necklace with a gold book charm. “It’s beautiful. You didn’t have to do this.” _

_ “I wanted to. You’re a very special girl, Emma.” _

***

Emma didn’t remember much as she started to come back to herself. Her dream had brought her back to a time where she was happy, a time where she felt loved and safe. The last thing Emma remembered was Killian’s eyes. Her eyes felt heavy as she struggled to open them and her throat felt dry as she struggled to speak.

“Killian?” 

Elsa looked up from where she was sitting in a chair next to the bed Emma was in. “It’s Elsa,” she said, gently. “Killian’s just outside with August.” 

Emma finally opened her eyes to see her friend. She was wrapped in comfortable sheets and a fluffy comforter. Sitting up in the unfamiliar bed, she looked around the room and didn’t recognize anything. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Killian’s apartment.” The curtains drawn over the doors threw her off. The last time she was in his apartment they were open and the glass doors gave the illusion that the apartment was bigger than it was. Elsa moved to sit on the bed next to Emma. “Do you remember anything that happened last night?”

Elsa had changed. She was in leggings and a sweatshirt. Her roommate had brought her a bag with a change of clothes along with Emma’s bag that was left in their dorm. Emma, however, was still in her dress and jacket from last night.  _ Last night _ . She had a few drinks, over a few hours, enough that she was tipsy but not enough that she was drunk. Except she was, when she left. And a man . . . Her head was killing her, every inch of her body was in pain. She felt like she had been hit by a truck.

Emma swallowed hard, pulling her jacket tighter around her. “I don’t know.” Elsa handed her the glass of water that was on the nightstand. Emma slowly took a sip and set it down again. 

“Emma,” Elsa took a deep breath, her tears pooling in her eyes. “You left the bar, you said you had a headache. You left your phone on the bar though. Killian ran out once he noticed it and tried to catch up to you. He saw some guy holding you and . . . dragging you along with him.” Elsa took a deep breath, trying to be strong for her friend. “God, I heard him scream over the music. He said the guy tossed you to the ground and you hit your head. You passed out and we brought you up here.”

Everything was rushing back to Emma faster than rocks fall during a landslide. She felt like she was being buried under the weight of the fear, the pain, the guilt that consumed her. “I didn’t drink that much,” Emma said, defensively, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Emma. No one is blaming you. None of this is your fault.” Elsa sighed and gently rested her hand on top of her friend’s. Emma couldn’t stand to be touched though. She felt wrong. She felt dirty. She felt like a shell of the person she was  _ before _ . Because that’s what this created. It was a wall that divided her life, her being, her soul. There was a before. Before she let herself feel free for a night. Before she let herself lose a little control and dress a little sexier and let herself feel happy. Emma realized that she was in the  _ after _ . After being unable to fight back. After choosing to leave alone. After the damage.  _ Damaged _ . The word kept popping back up into her head, poisoning the memories that, on any other occasion, would be on constant replay like a new favorite song. Flashbacks of kissing Killian on a make-shift dance floor.  _ Damaged _ . Flashbacks of his arms wrapped tightly around her.  _ Damaged _ . Flashbacks of their shameless flirting.  _ Damaged _ . Flashbacks of the desire she had seen in the deep blue of his eyes.  _ Damaged. _

Elsa watched as her best friend battled a war behind her eyes. There was nothing to say in that moment could have made anything better. The light was out in Emma’s eyes. Her green eyes usually shined bright, as if Emma had something to prove in every single thing she did, as if she was always in control, as if she was always simultaneously day dreaming and living a life she had dreamed of. It was a light that was unique to Emma. That day, that light was trapped behind a new darkness.

“You’re okay, Emma. You’re safe now. I promise,” was all Elsa could manage. 

“If Killian hadn’t . . .” Emma’s voice trailed off.

“But he did. And you’re safe.” 

Emma nodded and her gaze turned to her hands. Elsa sat with her friend for a while in silence before finally speaking again. “Do you want me to get Killian?” 

Emma hesitated before shaking her head no. She wasn’t ready for him to see her this broken. All at once she needed more time and needed him with her. 

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

Emma shook her head again.

“Do you want to be alone?”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut as tears started to fall. She shook her head no and leaned into Elsa, her head resting on Elsa’s shoulder. Elsa’s arms wrapped around her, rubbing her back soothingly. “Let it out, Emma.” Emma’s entire body shook with sobs. Tears started to escape from Elsa’s eyes as well. She was crying with and for her friend. They were best friends nearly instantly. They danced out their feelings together. They aggressively binged Grey’s Anatomy together (hence the dancing it out). Emma went to protests and rallies just to support Elsa. Elsa was always the first person who read anything Emma wrote. They mocked sexism in literature and praised classical feminist authors together. They ate lunch together as often as possible. When one of them was hurt, the other was hurt. 

Killian and August heard Emma crying from the other room. Killian swore he felt his heart break in his chest.

“She’ll be okay,” August noted. 

***

Elsa eventually emerged from Killian’s bedroom when the sun was starting to set, closing the door behind her. Killian immediately stood up and turned to her. 

“How is she?” He asked. He hadn’t slept at all. His hair was tousled from running his hands through it all night. He, August and Elsa had taken turns sitting with Emma while she was out so that they could each try and get some sleep and so that someone was always with Emma. Robin tried to come when he finally emerged from his rendezvous with Regina but Elsa convinced him they had it handled and that he should enjoy his Sunday. Of course he was incapable of that, though, and unbeknownst to the rest of them, spent the day perusing the internet on his laptop in the pub, waiting for one of them to eventually come down. None of them were able to stomach the thought of eating anything. 

Elsa sighed. “She’ll be okay. She probably needs food and a shower, likely some Advil. She shouldn’t go to class tomorrow, she really needs to rest.”

August’s stomach growled. “I think we all need food.” 

“Why don’t you guys head downstairs and eat something? It’s on the house. I think Ruby should be managing.” Killian said, pulling his phone out to text Ruby to give them anything they want for free. “I can stay with Emma and make sure she eats something.”

Elsa nodded. “She was asking about you before I left. I think August and I can head out if you think you’re okay here? I put her bag in your room. There should be a change of clothes and shoes, her journal, her laptop, and her macro textbook but don’t let her read it. Tell her to take a break for once.”

“Thank you,” Killian said. “I’ll keep you updated.” Elsa threw her bag over her shoulder and they said goodbye. When the door to his apartment closed, Killian slowly opened the door to his bedroom, poking his head in. “Emma?” He asked, softly, his accent thick with concern. Closing the door behind him, Killian walked to sit at the foot of the bed. 

Emma was laying on her side curled up under the covers, her face nearly buried in the pillow. She breathed in the faintly familiar scent of Killian lingering on the pillowcase. “Killian?” She managed when she finally found her voice. The way his name felt on her lips gave her a shimmer of hope that this darkness enveloping her would fade eventually.

Killian let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and rested his hand over her foot. “I’m here, love.” Emma turned to look at him, all the words she wished she could day racing around her mind.  _ Thank you _ , she thought.  _ Thank you. Don’t leave. I need you. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t . . .  _

His voice pulled her out of her spiral. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll find you some fresh clothes to change into,” he suggested. 

She nodded, slowly sliding out of the comfort of the covers. Everything hurt when she stood. A hot shower was exactly what she needed. Killian motioned to the door that led to his bathroom. 

“There’s a clean towel on the back of the door. Just turn the knob towards you to make the water hotter and use whatever’s in there.” 

Emma made her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The feeling of being alone started to sink in as she turned the water on in the shower, allowing it to get hot before she’d step in. She slid her jacket off and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. That’s when she saw it. 

Her hair was a mess and her eyes were a little red from crying. On her upper left arm there was a large bruise, wrapping almost entirely around her bicep. Her hand moved to gently brush over it. On contact, Emma winced and remembered. She remembered him grabbing her arm, holding her against him. She remembered how he tightened his grip multiple times. But now, looking in the mirror that was slowly starting to fog, she realized that he had both taken her necklace, the only gift she had ever gotten in her entire life, and branded her. He had marked her and taken a token. He damaged her.  _ Damaged.  _ The realization that he had left his mark on her made Emma sick. She dashed to the toilet, violently throwing up, as if her body was rejecting any remnants of his touch. 

Killian was pulling out some pajamas for Emma to change into when he heard her.  _ Emma.  _ Instinctively he ran to the bathroom, throwing the door open without bothering to knock. He kneeled behind her and pulled her hair back and out of her face, holding it with one hand while the other rubbed her back. Before she knew it, Emma was crying again, cheek resting on the cool porcelain of the toilet in front of her. Killian left a comforting kiss on the back of her shoulder. “You’re safe Emma, I’ve got you,” he whispered. 

“He hurt me,” Emma choked between sobs. “He marked me.” Saying the words made her vomit again. Killian continued rubbing her back 

“What?” While Killian’s voice was soft, he felt rage racing through his entire body. Then he noticed the bruise on her arm. “Oh Emma.” He rested his hand lightly over the mark. He wanted to kill the bastard who did this to her, who hurt her and he wanted to hit himself for letting him get away. “It’ll fade. You’re going to be okay. It’s just a bruise.” Emma froze at Killian’s touch. Warmth ran across her body. The gentleness of his hands was in stark contrast to the grip that bruised her. Emma wanted to bury herself in that touch and never have to feel that pain ever again. That’s what Killian’s touch was to her in that moment - safety, comfort, and a feeling of a promise that he would never hurt her. But how could someone like him ever want someone as broken, as  _ damaged _ , as she was?

Killian reached forward, flushing the toilet before shifting his position so that he could pull Emma into his lap. He held her close against him, rocking her gently as she cried, stroking her hair. Emma clung to him, her hands fisting the material of his shirt and her face buried in his chest. “H-how could you - everything’s ruined,” she said between sobs.

“Love, what are you talking about?”

“Talk to me. Please.” Killian pleaded when Emma didn’t respond.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she admitted. Emma knew there wasn’t really anything for Killian to  _ leave _ exactly, but that kiss meant something in the  _ before _ . She wanted it to mean something in the  _ after _ too. 

He kissed the top of her head and whispered, just loud enough for her to hear over the still-running water from the shower, “I’m not going anywhere. None of this changes anything.”

***

After Emma brushed her teeth and showered, she came out to find clothes that Killian left out for her neatly folded on the bed. He had left her a pair of plaid pajama pants and a soft, worn grey University of Oxford long-sleeve t-shirt. She had to roll the waistband of the pants a few times so she wouldn’t trip on them and the shirt’s sleeves were long enough on her that she could clutch the ends of them in her hands. Comfort washed over her when she was dressed, but a simple change of clothes, even Killian’s clothes, couldn’t erase the trauma replaying over and over again in her head. 

So she crawled back into bed, slipping under the covers that she pulled up to her chin trying to hide from both the world and herself. Killian poked his head in moments later carrying two bowls, each with a fork in it. “Hey. I made you dinner, you should try to eat something.” Killian took the chair Elsa had been sitting in next to the bed and handed her a bowl of pasta. Emma sat up and took it, suddenly realizing that she was starving. 

“Thank you,” she said, taking a bite. 

“It was no trouble, love.” 

“No.” Emma looked at him. “I mean thank you. For . . . “ her voice trailed off. Killian understood what she was saying. It was a thank you for everything: for protecting her, for letting her stay here, for taking care of her. For saving her.

“It’s no trouble, love.” They continued to eat in silence. Killian checked his phone a few times, answering texts from Emma’s friends and letting them know that she was okay, that he had gotten her to take a shower and to eat something. When they were finished he brought the bowls back into the kitchen. He needed a shower and a change of clothes desperately. Killian made his way back to the bedroom where Emma had curled into herself, hugging one of his pillows tight to her chest. After grabbing pajamas to change into, he slipped into the bathroom to take a quick shower and brush his teeth. He let the hot water run over him, relaxing his tense muscles for longer than he had planned. 

Eventually, he emerged, dressed with damp hair that he pushed off his forehead. Emma hadn’t moved from her position on his bed. Killian walked over to place a gentle kiss on her temple. “Try and get some sleep, love.” 

Emma looked up when he started to walk away. “Wait,” she said as he reached for the doorknob. Killian turned to look back at her, a little startled at the sound of her voice. “Please don’t go.” 

“Emma -”

“I don’t want to be alone.” She couldn’t be alone with her thoughts conjuring up too many what ifs. When Killian was near, her mind calmed down. The what ifs that ended in the worst possible ways started to become the what ifs any girl with a crush day dreamed about. He was a welcomed respite from her fear, a beacon of light in what felt like endless darkness. 

Slipping into bed next to her, he was cautious of the walls he knew she had put up. Killian laid on his side, facing Emma’s back. He rested a hand on her back to let her know he was there. Emma reached around and grabbed his hand, pulling him close to her as she held his arm tightly against her. 

“You never have to be alone Emma,” he said. Her hair smelled like his shampoo. All he wanted to do was make her feel warm and safe. If he could take away all her pain he would. 

When Killian finally fell asleep and after Emma had failed miserably to fall asleep, she snuck out of bed, grabbed her journal, and slipped out of the bedroom. The wave of emotions washing over her as she ran her hand over the soft, brown leather made her want to give into that darkness and drown in it. She couldn’t handle any of it anymore.  _ Give it to the page _ , she thought. And so she did.

***

_ The one who will never be good enough. The one who never got the perfect job. The one who was stood up. The one who messes it all up. It was as if everyone could see clearly through their present dreams to their future realities.  _

_ If X is the one who’s rejected, whose career might be on the line, and Y is the one left waiting alone in the restaurant, whose heart breaks with every passing second, and Z is the one who drank too much to remember the night, whose clouded mind hurts the one next to him, then I am the one who’s never going to be good enough for the one next to me, whose damage will will make realize that she should be nothing more than a ship passing in the night soon to be forgotten amongst the rest of his mistakes. _

***

Soon, Emma felt like she was able to breathe again. Although when that finally happened, she realized how exhausted she was from everything she had been through. So she crawled back into the bedroom, quietly as to not wake Killian who had rolled onto his back in his sleep. Emma smiled when she saw him, his features soft in sleep, his chest gently rising and falling with his breathing. It was then that Emma knew she was damned to keep falling for him and that there was no safety net to catch her. All either of them needed to do was jump. 

Tiptoeing through the room, she slipped back under the covers and curled up against Killian, resting her head on his chest, comforted by the repetitive sound of his heartbeat. 

“Hey,” Killian sighed sleepily, wrapping his arms around her to pull her close to him, too tired to open his eyes. “You okay?”

Avoiding the question of whether or not she was okay because, to be perfectly honest, she wasn’t entirely sure, she simply responded with “You’re warm.” 

Killian chucked, a soft, sleepy, comforting sound. “Are you cold, love?” Emma didn’t answer verbally. Instead she pressed a cold hand to his neck that he lazily swatted away. “Aye, you’re definitely cold.” He pulled the sheets and comforter up to her shoulders. “Try to get some sleep, Swan.” 

It didn’t take Emma long to fall asleep in Killian’s arms. After all the memories and the what ifs that had played over and over in her head all day, Killian must’ve been her dream catcher because for the rest of the night Emma didn’t dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended last week's chapter on a not-great note so I decided to end this one on a slightly lighter one :) I'd love to hear your thoughts! Feel free to leave a comment or send me a message on Tumblr at [Cluttermind](https://cluttermind.tumblr.com/)


	6. Feels Like This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry this took longer than I had anticipated to write. To make up for the delay it's a slightly longer chapter with a lot of fluff and some smut mixed if (so if that's not your thing feel free to scroll through that part). I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reading, for your comments, and for your support. Stay safe out there everyone!

_ When it feels like this, like a light came on _

_ And you look at me like I’m all you want _

_ I got everything at my fingertips _

_ How can I resist when it feels like this? _

-Maisie Peters,  _ Feels Like This _

“You had one  _ fucking _ job! She told you  _ exactly _ what to do, wrote it all out for you, you incompetent monkey.” A dark figure shrieked at the man in the hoodie, Emma’s necklace digging into the palm of a tightly clenched fist. 

“She’ll do what you need her to. It was enough,” the man responded.

“That’s up to Him to determine,” the figure said. “You have no idea what He’s capable of.”

“I can handle myself you bitch. I played my part. You and I both know that you’re no more of a pawn in His game than I am.”

“You’re just a pathetic excuse for a man who had nothing better to do. Apparently you’re not even capable of a quick fuck. You’re an expendable sidekick. He created you thousands of years ago to run His errands, to do His dirty work. I can give Him what he wants and He can help me get my revenge and even now after all this time you’re still useless.”

“I. Played. My. Part. You’d be nowhere without me.” The man closed the distance between him and the dark figure. “You’re just mad you can’t bring her down by yourself. You need Him. You need  _ us _ and that kills you.”

“At least I have a reason, you’re just evil,” the figure snarled at him. 

“And that is exactly why you like me.” The man stepped closer to the figure, closing the distance between them, his tone resembling something close to seduction although the animal-like hiss still remained. 

“He won’t be happy,” the figure responded, ignoring the man’s advances. 

“It was enough. Just wait. The darkness in her is bound to consume her. It’s only a matter of time.”

“She’ll pay for what she did.”

  


***

  


Two weeks later, midterms were finally over which meant spring break had finally started. Emma and Killian had been texting regularly, usually late at night and in the morning when Emma wasn’t drowning under books or in class. She barely slept. Whenever she finally calmed herself down from exam stress enough to close her eyes every night, the nightmares she had shook her to her core and kept her from sleeping. So she was looking forward to a break. 

It was Friday. Most students had already left for hometowns or vacation destinations to escape the cold, including Elsa, August and Robin. Campus and Collegetown were nearly empty. Killian had suggested they go out to dinner to celebrate the end of her exam period and kick off her spring break. The thing was, Emma had no idea what this dinner was. 

_ Was it a night out between friends?  _

_ Was it a date?  _

_ Were they grabbing a slice of pizza around the corner?  _

_ Were they going somewhere nice?  _

_ Were they walking?  _

_ Were they driving?  _

_ Was she driving?  _

_ Was he driving?  _

_ Did he expect something after? _

Emma nervously stared at the two dresses she owned hanging in her sorry excuse for a closet. Elsa, unfortunately, left for break the night before and since Emma wasn’t sure what this dinner was she didn’t ask her friend if she could borrow a dress. So she opted for the flowy pink dress Mary Marget helped her buy for her high school graduation and pulled her hair up into a ponytail to keep her from looking too overdressed. After her last night out, she opted for shorter heels that she had a better chance at balancing and walking in even though they would inevitably cause her pain.

Still having about half an hour before Killian was supposed to pick her up, she fiddled her hands nervously as she paced her small room. Compared to his beautiful apartment in a building he owned, Emma’s ratty, run-down, strictly-a-place-to-sleep college apartment was an  _ utter  _ embarrassment. It was the cheapest thing she could find and the only thing she could afford and the last thing she wanted Killian to see. 

Quickly, Emma shoved a change of clothes, socks, sneakers, pajamas, and her toiletries into her backpack (a little presumptuous but honestly a night away from an apartment that she had been having endless nightmares in that was empty except for her was something she welcomed, and maybe even hoped for). She threw her bag over her shoulder and left her apartment, walking toward the Jolly Roger.

She got there with 15 minutes to spare. It was mostly empty so she took her usual spot at the bar, setting her bag on the chair next to her. 

“What can I get for you?” The bartender asked.

“Uhm just a Coke, thanks,” Emma responded. “It’s Will Scarlet right? I think we met briefly before.” 

“Yeah! It’s . . .” Will paused, clearly not remembering her name. 

“Emma,” she smiled.

“Right! Emma. The Captain’s friend,” he noted, as if he was trying to commit it to memory. Will handed her the soda she asked for. She paid and sipped it slowly, hoping the bubbled would help settle her nervous stomach. They engaged in small talk for a bit, Will telling her some funny stories about patrons he observed. He was actually quite funny and the jokes were a welcomed distraction. 

“Swan?” Killian had just come down from his apartment. He had traded his usually rock-star black for a more romantic blue for the evening. He donned dark navy dress pants and a matching vest over a pale blue dress shirt, black dress shoes, a black black belt and a black leather jacket. In one hand he held his keys and his phone; in the other he held a single red rose. “I was just about to leave to pick you up.”

She stood from her spot at the bar. “Oh right, sorry. I was ready early and my apartment was getting too quiet so I figured I’d just meet you here.”

“You look beautiful, love.” He sweetly kissed her cheek and handed her the rose. 

Emma blushed, her cheeks turning a soft pink as she took the flower. “Thank you.”  _ Date. Definitely a date. _

Killian turned to Will. “You good here, mate?”

“Yup, have fun!” 

Killian picked up Emma’s bag from the chair it was on and slung it over his shoulder, as if the fact that she had an overnight bag hadn’t phased him at all. If it did, he certainly didn’t show it. In fact, it hadn’t phased him at all. They had spent nearly every night talking to each other until one of them fell asleep. He missed her. She hadn’t been to the pub to study for her exams as she wasn’t sure she was capable of handling the rush of memories that might flood her mind upon returning here for the first time since the incident while also having to deal with midterms. He missed her voice, her laugh, the way she kissed him, the way she smiled at him. He missed the easy rise and fall of her chest as she slept against him. Killian was far too deep into this for his own good but the effect she had on him was unstoppable. All at once she lit his world on fire and kept him grounded. 

“Shall we?” He asked. Leading her out of the pub, he rested one hand on the small of her back and walked her to his car. 

Emma was barely able to form words, lost in her own thoughts.  _ Exams were over. He was taking her on a date _ .  _ He brought her a rose _ . She felt so free that it was like she was breathing fresh air for the first time. Emma could count on one hand the number of dates she had been on (meaning the one she was currently on). No one in high school was interested in dating the foster child or the girl who lived in her tiny car. People barely gave her the time of day, let alone got dressed up for her or bought her a rose. It wasn’t until Killian had started the car that she was able to find her voice again. 

“You look nice, Killian.” She smiled at him, still holding the rose close to her, cherishing the sweet gift.

“Some might even say  _ devilishly handsome _ ,” he smirked.

“Hah.” Emma snorted and rolled her eyes. “Remind me not to feed your ego ever again.” Killian laughed. It was the sweetest sound Emma had ever heard. “So where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, love.” They sat the rest of the short ride in comfortable silence. Emma’s heart was fluttering in a mess of excitement and nervousness. Eventually he pulled the car up to BoatYard Grill, a beautiful restaurant right on the water. It was a perfect balance of classy and casual, and even though it was too dark to be able to look out and really see the water, there was something magical, something romantic, about the feeling of the lakeside air. 

Parking the car and slipping out of the driver’s seat, Killian jogged around to Emma’s side to open the door for her. “Milady,” he said, offering her a hand that she happily took with her free hand (one still held the rose that she refused to let go of).

She giggled as she got out of the car, Killian closing the door behind her. “Why thank you,  _ Captain _ .” 

Killian kept her hand in his as he led her to the restaurant, telling the hostess that he has a reservation under Jones.  _ He made a reservation for her _ . There were little things that Emma had never experienced growing up in the foster system. Dinner reservations was one of them. And Killian took the time and made the effort to plan an evening. For her. For them.  _ Oh Swan you’re really in it with this one.  _

They were seated at a quiet table for two in the back of the restaurant. Killian ordered a glass of wine. Emma stuck with water. Even though she had a pretty solid fake, she hadn’t been too keen on drinking ever since - 

“How was your last exam today?” Killian asked.

“Oh fine. Intro to Psych is pretty easy. It feels so nice to have a break for a bit.”

“Are you heading home for break?” He asked, curiously. As much as they spoke, Emma never talked about home. 

“Uhm.” Emma hesitated, unsure of whether to tell him the truth. The last thing she wanted was for Killian to look at her differently. But he was someone who had seen her at her worst and held her through the night when she was desperate to not be alone. “No. I, uhm, don’t really have a home. I grew up being shuffled around foster homes in Minnesota until I was 16 and lived in my car for two years so I could finish high school in one school just to have a shot at an Ivy League.”

“Emma I’m so sorry.” Killian reached across the table, resting a hand on hers. She didn’t see the typical pity in his eyes that she had seen in others who knew her story. She saw sympathy. Still, Emma wanted to change the subject and remembered the University of Oxford shirt he had given her to sleep in once.

“So you went to Oxford?” 

“Aye, for a year. Then I spent two years mostly traveling and sailing before my grandfather stopped funding my escapades and told me to get my act together. So I came here and decided to open the pub.”

“Why’d you leave?” 

Killian welcomed the interruption when their waiter came to take their orders. This wasn’t a story he was itching to share, let alone share on a first date. Once the waiter left, an older woman popped by the table after the waiter left. 

“Killian, my boy!” 

Killian stood to hug the woman, “Angela, it’s good to see you.”

“How’s your grandmother doing? Where in the world is she now? It’s impossible to contact her these days!”

“Belize? I think? At least that’s where the last postcard was from.” Killian shrugged. “How are you?”

“Oh just fine. Business is good, Jim is good, although he sure does miss having your grandfather around.”

“They were always up to something.” Killian said, fond memories of his grandfather and Angela’s husband betting nickels and dimes in poker every week at the lake house in the summer and, once he opened the pub, taking up their designated seats at the bar nearly every day. 

“And who’s this pretty lady?” Angela turned her attention to Emma.

“Angela this is Emma, my -”

“Girlfriend?!”  _ Friend! He was going to say friend! Fuck! What if Emma bolts?  _ Emma and Killian both blushed furiously. “You know Jim and I were just saying that it’s been so long since you’ve been with someone.” 

Killian cleared his throat, scratching behind his ear, clearly flustered. Emma, who was still slightly able to form a semi-cohesive thought interjected. “It’s nice to meet you Mrs . . .?”

“Oh sweetie just call me Angela. He’s a special one you know?” She jabbed Killian in the chest playfully.

Emma smiled up at Killian. “Yeah. I know.” Killian grinned back at her. 

Angela noticed their attention was clearly on eachother. “Well I’ll leave you two to enjoy your evening. Just holler if you need anything!” With that they were alone again and Killian reclaimed his seat across from Emma who was giggling.

“She seems lovely.” Emma noted.

“Aye, she is. Sorry about the whole -” 

There were two ways this conversation could go. Emma could play it safe or she could take a risk.

“Oh it’s fine. Although my real boyfriend would probably be quite upset to hear that I kinda liked the sound of it.” 

Killian raised an eyebrow at her and leaned in closer to her. “Well, Swan, you could tell your  _ other _ boyfriend that when I win your heart, and I will win your heart, it will be because you want me more than you’ve ever wanted someone before.” His voice had dropped to a place reserved for only the most erotic utterings. He smirked at her and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. Emma swallowed hard. Killian’s words sent a shiver up her spine and her heart into a frenzy. They sat in silence for a moment, eyes locked on each other as if time had stood still while Emma sat there, needing a minute to process his words, his voice, his eyes.

“So your grandmother is in Belize?” Emma asked, eventually. 

Killian chuckled, settling back into his seat. “Aye. She’s an archeologist. She spends most of her time in Central and South America, especially since my grandfather passed.”

“And your parents?”

“My mother, Alice, left when I was 5. She drove us to school to drop us off one day and then never came back. My father,” Killian sighed, taking a sip of his wine, “my father was a complicated man. I don’t blame Mum for leaving the way she did. He owned a pawn shop in Dublin that his grandfather had opened but I think he secretly hated it. He was drunk more often than not. He died when I was 19.” 

Emma gave him a look, a look that, all at once, said  _ I get it _ , and  _ I’m sorry _ , and  _ neither of us ever have to be alone again _ . She reached out and tenderly touched his hand, brushing her fingertips over his knuckles. Emma wondered if his death was why Killian never finished at Oxford, but something about the way he spoke about his father made her think there was more to that story that he seemed relieved to avoid. Their moment was interrupted by the waiter bringing them their food. 

The conversation flowed easily over dinner. Killian told her he was intending to major in fine arts, he told stories about him and his brother, Liam, and the antics they got into during summers at the lake house, and about sailing with his grandfather. Emma told him about the book she was reading, a beautiful fiction novel about a pandemic and those who survived and those who didn’t and how a traveling group of musicians and actors kept the arts alive with concerts and Shakespeare plays called  _ Station Eleven _ , which led her to telling him about her love of Shakespeare. 

“So do you have any spring break plans at all, Swan?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve got a few dates with McDreamy lined up and a growing pile of library books stacking up on my floor. What about you? I imagine business will be pretty slow this week.”

Killian finished his glass of wine. “Aye, it’s always pretty slow during breaks. I was planning on leaving Will in charge for the week and escaping to the lake house.”

“That sounds like a nice break.” Emma noted. 

An idea popped into Killian’s head. “I wouldn’t mind your company if you’re looking for a change of scenery.”

“Really?” Emma asked, sounding a little more hopeful and excited than she had planned.

Killian chuckled. “Aye. I think you’ve had a rough few weeks and have earned a bit of a break. Plus I quite miss having you in my bed.” 

“Hm. A tempting offer. But will there be grilled cheese?”

“Aye, love. Whatever you want.”

“And ice cream?” 

“Swan, we can go to the store once we’re done here and I will get you anything your heart desires.” 

Now it was her turn to make him blush. “Anything?” She gave him a  _ very insinuating  _ look from across the table.

Killian leaned forward again, enjoying this game of flirting. “ _ Anything _ your heart desires.” 

  


***

  


Quickly, Killian paid the bill and they made their way over to the supermarket. Emma, to his dismay, tossed in every unhealthy thing she could find, including a box of brownie mix that she insisted they bake to have with the vanilla ice cream that would inevitably be tossed in the cart. All he could do was laugh and watch her. She was like a kid in a candy store who never once let go of the rose he gave her. 

Killian had seen Emma at her lowest point, watched her go to war with herself over what happened to her, watched her suffer for weeks while attempting to study for exams he knew were causing her stress. He knew she wasn’t sleeping because she’d send him random texts at all hours of the night. He figured it helped her feel less alone so when he woke up every morning, he replied to every single one, no matter how silly or ridiculous or sometimes incohesive it was. 

This Emma, happy, free, with a light that radiated from every inch of her and filled even the darkest parts of him, was the Emma he wanted always to remember, the Emma he wanted to spend his days trying to bring out. 

While she debated which PopTarts she wanted, Killian slipped away to run to the pharmacy section. Not that he expected anything, but he picked up a package of condoms.  _ A gentleman is always prepared _ , he told himself.  _ Oh who are you kidding, you want this way more than you should _ . 

Killian returned to find Emma stuck deciding between two flavors of PopTarts and shoved the box into the cart before she could see them. The last thing he wanted was to think he invited her just so he could have sex with her. Really, Killian would be fine with spending the entire week watching Netflix with her in his arms. And apparently baking brownies to have with vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream and who knows what else.

“Just get them both before you give yourself a headache,” he joked. Emma tossed both boxes in.  _ This woman is going to cost you a fortune _ . She gave him a bright smile and kissed him. In the middle of the aisle. Not caring for a second who saw them. 

“Thank you. For everything, Killian,” she said when she finally pulled back, leaving Killian breathless.

_ And she was worth every damn penny.  _

  


***

  


Killian pulled into a long driveway leading to a beautiful home right on the lake. It had to be at least 2 acres of property from what Emma could tell in the dark. The house was pretty far from any neighbors and the trees lining the edge of the property on either side hid any evidence that other people even existed. It was perfect and exactly what Emma needed. They grabbed a bag of groceries each and headed inside. The first thing Emma did was ask Killian to put her rose in some water for her.

From the entrance you could see all the way to the back of the house which was essentially just a wall of windows. In the living room there was a large overstuffed couch in front of a fireplace and a large TV fit for the best kinds of movie nights snuggled in front of the fire. As tempting as it was to jump on the couch they still had bags to bring in. Emma might have gone a little overboard on the snacks. 

“Do you think we have enough chips?” Killian joked, putting the third bag bag of chips in the panty while Emma unpacked bags on the island. He suddenly realized that he completely forgot what bag - 

“Think we have enough condoms?” Emma joked back. She found the box he so slyly tried to hide from her while unpacking a bag containing a ridiculous amount of candy for the movie nights they planned on having.

Killian froze, blushing so furiously even the tips of his ears were red. Emma broke out in hysterical laughter.  _ This _ was quite literally the last thing she had ever expected would embarrass Killian, the king of flirting, the master of inappropriate comments, the professional smoothtalker, the dreamy bartender who had girls fawning over him constantly, with a voice that could, quite literally, get any girl to drop their pants for him. 

“I’m glad you find this so funny.” He looked at anything except her, scratching behind his ear.

“This is just so not you, Jones,” she said, pulling herself together. “Well actually  _ this  _ -” she waved the box “is you. Trying to slyly slip them in without me noticing is definitely you. The  _ blushing  _ though!”

Killian snatched the box from her. “A gentleman is always prepared, Swan.” 

Emma stepped towards him, slinking her arms around his waist. “Very smooth, Jones.”

He tossed the box onto the island and wrapped his arms around her. “I didn’t want to -”

“I know.” 

“We don’t have to do anything.” 

Emma’s hands slid up Killian’s chest to rest on his shoulders. “What if I want to?”

“Then I’d be quite happy to oblige your desires, Swan,” he purred. 

“When did you even get these?”

“During the great PopTart debate of 2020.”

Emma chuckled. “Right.” Her hands ran along the collar of his shirt, her eyes avoiding his. “There’s something you should know.” 

“About PopTarts?” Killian asked, confused. 

“No, you idiot.” Emma took a breath, her hands again resting on his shoulders as she tried to calm the nerves causing her heart to beat faster, trying to find the words to tell the obviously experienced man standing in front of her that she was a virgin, that she, quite literally, had no idea what she was doing. But  _ god _ , she wanted him. All Emma could think about was the way he kissed, the way his hands felt on her hips when they danced. “No one’s ever taken me on a date before. So if this is going where I’m hoping it’s going you’ll be my first.” 

Killian’s heart broke for her. How could someone so beautiful, intelligent, strong, funny, kind, and lovely never have experienced what it feels like to be loved, to be cherished, to be adored? All he wanted to do was show her that. 

He kissed her softly. “Come with me.” Killian whispered against her lips before pulling away. He took her hand, making sure to grab the box that started this, and led her up the stairs to the master bedroom he had taken over when his grandmother gave him the run of the house. 

With each step, anticipation bubbled in Emma’s stomach. It was a spacious room, with doors leading to a balcony that overlooked the lake, a king-sized bed, and a door that led to the master bathroom. As much as she had touched herself reading illicit stories on the internet or watching porn sites or, recently, thinking about Killian, nothing could have prepared her for the look in Killian’s eyes as he closed the door behind them, tossed the box onto the nightstand. 

His hands traveled down her arms before he kissed her deeply. Emma’s fingers worked at the buttons of his vest, eventually sliding it off his shoulders. Killian’s lips traveled down her neck, his stubble softly tickling her. She sighed when his lips found her pulsepoint, tiling her head back as her hands found the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Killian slowly unzipped her dress, kissing her shoulder as it dropped to the floor, leaving Emma standing before him in nothing but her heels, white lace bra and matching panties. “Emma,” he whispered, taking her in. His hands roamed her back while his lips returned passionately to hers. 

Emma’s entire body was buzzing, lit on fire from Killian’s kisses. Quickly, she undid the buttons on his dress shirt as he walked her backwards towards the bed. She smiled against his lips when her head hit the pillow. Her fingers danced their way down his spine. Killian trailed kisses down her body, kneeling before her on the bed as he took her shoes off. Emma moaned. “Fuck that feels goos. Those were killing my feet.” 

Killian chuckled, settling back between her legs. “You can tell me to stop at any time, Emma.” 

“Can you please stop wearing pants?” She teased, toying with the waistband of his dress pants. 

He kissed her before standing to remove his shoes, socks, belt and pants. Emma missed the heat of his body on top of her. In the time it took him to strip down to his boxers, Emma had gotten into her own head. 

_ What if I’m not good enough? _

_ What if I do something wrong? _

_ What if it hurts?  _

_ What if I’m not exciting enough for him? _

_ What if I’m too loud? _

_ What if I’m not loud enough? _

_ What if he doesn’t enjoy it? _

Emma was so stuck in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Killian was again on top of her, bra now off and on the floor until he pulled her out of her thoughts. “Emma?” His face was inches from her breast. He could tell she was wrapped in her own thoughts.

“Huh?” She realized she had completely zoned out into her own thoughts.

“Are you nervous?” Killian asked her, laying on his side next to her, his arousal pressing against her thigh.” 

Emma turned her head to look at him. “Yes,” she whispered. His fingers danced over the soft skin of her stomach.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.” Her hand touched his cheek, reassuring him that she wanted this, that she wanted  _ him _ . 

He turned to kiss her palm. “Don’t overthink it. Just focus on me. Focus on my voice. Let yourself go for me, love.” Killian’s voice dropped. “Let me make you feel good.” 

Emma’s heart was racing. She nodded, taking a deep breath. His hand gently cupped her breast, massaging gently. 

“You’re so beautiful, Emma,” Killian said, nearly moaning at how soft her skin felt in his hand. He lowered his lips to take her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Emma’s hands tangled themselves in his hair. 

“God I’ve dreamed about this.” Emma admitted, moaning softly. Killian grazed his fingers over the waistband of her panties, smirking against her skin. 

“Swan, you have no idea.” Most of Killian’s nights ended with thoughts of Emma and all the wonderful things he wanted to do to her, do with her. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day you came into the Jolly with a fucking textbook.” His hand slipped below the waistband, his fingers sliding teasingly over her wet folds. Emma gasped. “You’re already so wet for me, love.” 

“Just for you,” Emma moaned, arching her back as Killian’s finger brushed across her clit. Slowly he teased light circles over her, quickening his pace whenever she moaned for him. “Killian. . .”

The way she moaned his name nearly drove Killian into a frenzy. “Tell me what you want, Emma,” he purred against her ear. 

“You . . . inside,” Emma breathed.

“We’ll get there, my love.” Killian chuckled, capturing her lips with his, their tongues crashing together in a messy, delicious dance. He slipped a finger inside her, eliciting a groan from Emma. He ground his hips against her thigh, needing to relieve some of the pressure building in his cock. Emma’s hand snaked between them. Cautiously, she stroked him over the soft material of his boxers. Killian groaned against her mouth. “Fuck, Emma.” 

He wanted to tell her not to worry about him, that this was about her, but the nights he spent thinking about how she would touch him made this first moment too much for him to form a comprehensive sentence. Killian gasped at the feeling of her hand slipping beneath his waistband and wrapping around him. In response he slipped a second finger into her, pumping in and out a little faster. 

Emma’s head was spinning with the intoxicating sensations racing through her body. She stroked her hand over Killina’s full length until she could take it any longer. “Fuck, Killian-” she moaned. “So close.” 

“Come for me, Emma,” he growled, thumb finding her clit to help her over the edge. Emma fell apart, her orgasm coming in waves over her as she cried out Killian’s name into the darkness of the room, pleasure possessing every inch of her body. 

When she finally opened her eyes again, she saw Killian watching her and blushed furiously. “Hi.” She gave him a shy smile. 

He smiled back at her. “Hi.” 

Emma kissed him, softly at first and more passionately as she started to come back to herself. “I want you.” 

“Emma . . .” Killian hesitated, wanting to make sure this was really what she wanted. And god did he hope it was what she wanted.

“Please.” 

He reached for the box on the nightstand, rolling onto his back next to her. Emma watched as he opened the box to pull out a foil packet. His hair was a mess, sticking out in different directions and falling onto his forehead, and somehow he looked sexier than when he had every strand in place to match the very put together look of his vest and dress pants. His breathing was slightly labored with anticipation. He had a tattoo of an anchor on the top of his arm by his shoulder.

Killian lifted his hips to push his boxers off and Emma’s breath caught in her throat. Killian noticed Emma’s staring and raised an eyebrow, smirking at her. “See something you like, Swan?”

Emma’s face turned bright red. “Maybe.” 

Killian kissed her quickly before returning his attention to the foil package. He carefully tore it open and rolled the condom down his length while Emma pulled her panties off, tossing them to the floor. Killian settled between her legs, resting on his forearms to keep his weight from crushing her beneath him. Her arms wrapped around him holding him close to her. 

In that moment, the rush of passion, the unbearable heat between them slowly dissipated into a loving tenderness, a gentle caress of warmth surrounding them. 

“Go slow,” Emma whispered, a soft encouragement for Killian not to stop. 

“Aye, my love.” His hand reached between them, guiding himself into her slowly. Emma hissed slightly, her nails digging into Killian’s back. Immediately he stilled. “Emma?”

“Don’t stop.” 

So he didn’t. He pushed in slowly until he was fully sheathed, whispered profanities falling from his lips. Killian dropped his head, placing a sensual kiss to Emma’s shoulder. “How are you?” 

_ Weird. Full. Stretched. _ Those were the first words that came to Emma’s mind. She needed a second to gather her thoughts. Killian had the self control of a saint at that moment. He gave her the time, the silence, she needed, playing with the ends of the long, blond hair (really to distract himself from the desire to pull his hips back and push back into her because  _ fuck  _ she felt incredible). 

When she adjusted to his length:  _ Good. So good. More. _

“Killian,” Emma whispered against his shoulder, “you feel so good.” 

“Fuck, Emma.” Killian groaned, pulling his hips back slowly before pushing back into her. Emma let her eyes close. Her hands knotted in his hair, keeping him close to her. “You feel incredible.” 

She moaned softly in response and Killian picked up his pace, pushing into her a little faster, a little harder. “Yes. Killian.” 

Killian muttered profanities that could make any sailor blush, his self control slipping from his grasp. He kept a steady pace, not too slow, not too fast, hitting her in just the right spot over and over. Nothing compared to the feeling of Killian inside her, the way his hips rolled effortlessly against hers, the way his lips moved against her shoulder and her neck as he whispered dirty nothings to her, edging her on. 

“Emma, god I can’t-” Killian moaned against her. “I’m gonna -” 

She used his words against him. “Come for me, Killian.”

And with that he came undone above her, coming with a cry of her name and nearly collapsing on top of her as his orgasm shook his entire body. Emma’s hips rolled against his, working him through it, working him down. Her hands softly stroked his hair, now slightly damp with sweat. 

He slowly pulled out, kissing her forehead softly, allowing his lips to linger there for a moment. “I’ll be right back.” 

Emma whimpered at the loss of his weight on her, comforting like a weighted blanket. It wasn’t long before he came back from the master bathroom, condom discarded and a warm, damp washcloth in hand that he used to gently clean between her legs. Emma signed softly at the pleasant contact. He tossed the cloth into the laundry bin and settled back into bed next to Emma who turned on her side to face him, cuddling close. 

“How are you?” Killian asked.

“Wonderful.” Emma admitted, relaxing against him. Her thoughts began to intrude on the moment. “Did you. . . Did you like it?” 

Killian nearly scoffed. “I should be asking you that!” 

“I asked first.” Emma teased. This was easy. This was them. Silly bantering. Caring words. 

He chuckled, playing with her hair, nuzzling his nose against hers. “How could I not like it? It was with you.” Emma blushed. “Now you have to answer.”

Emma shrugged. “Eh. It was fine,” she toyed. 

Killian’s jaw dropped. “You little minx.” Emma broke into a fit of giggles and he playfully swatted at her ass. “You take that back!” 

She kissed him, playfully, smiling against his lips. “Yes. It was -” She paused.

“What?” 

“Nothing, it’s silly.” 

“Tell me.” 

“It was almost as good as my dreams,” she admitted, partially teasing him, mostly being sincere. 

He grinned. “Glad to hear I wasn’t the only one dreaming of this.” 

They took turns showering. Emma was exhausted and, honestly, not quite up for round two just yet so Killian gave her some space. When she was done, she changed into her pajamas and pulled out her glasses and  _ Station Eleven _ to read while waiting for Killian to return to bed. 

“Glasses suit you, love.” Killian commented when he emerged from his shower in nothing but a towel.

Emma smirked, half hearing him while she was engrossed in her book. “A towel suits you.” 

Killian chuckled, pulling out pajamas from the dresser. “You haven’t looked up for a second.”

“Shhhhhh. Two characters just disappeared. I need to know what happens.” 

He pulled on his pajamas before collapsing on the bed next to her. Killian watched her for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration behind her glasses. She was beautiful. Always. She was beautiful when she was dressed for work, when she was dressed for a night out with her friends, when she was lost in concentration, when she was frustrated, when her hair was damp and she was getting ready for bed, when she was dolled up for a date, when she was nervous, when she was confident, when she was teasing him, when she was vulnerable with him, when she was exhausted, when she was dancing in the middle of the aisle in the supermarket.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Her said softly, almost to himself as he traces patterns absentmindedly on her thigh over her pajama bottoms.

Emma looked down from her book at him lying next to her. She closed the book, marking her space with a torn piece of paper she was using as a make-shift bookmark, before turning the light off and settling down next to him, her nose inches from his. “I’m glad you invited me. I really did need a break.”

“Aye, I know love,” he said before kissing her softly. 

“Thank you, by the way. Dinner was lovely.” 

“It was my pleasure, Swan.” 

Emma rolled onto her other side, her back pressed against Killian’s chest. She held his arm close against her as their legs tangled together in a way that was nearly impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began. “Goodnight, Killian,” she whispered softly, her eyes fluttering close as exhaustion began to take over her.

Killian breathed in the comforting scent of her lavender shampoo. “Goodnight, my love.” 

That was the first time Emma had slept through the night since the incident. Warm and safe in Killian’s arms, she never wanted to leave. 


	7. Silver, Gold, and Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the inconsistent posting schedule! I'm trying so hard to stay on track. Here's a LONG chapter with a whole lot happening to make up for it :) 
> 
> Enjoy some fluff, plot, and smut!

_ I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow _

_ Casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there counting crows _

_ One for sorrow _

_ Two for joy _

_ Three for girls and four for boys _

_ Five for silver _

_ Six for gold and _

_ Seven for a secret never to be told _

\- Counting Crows,  _ Murder of One _

Cold, Emma rolled over to snuggle closer to Killian. Instead she rolled flat onto her stomach. She blindly reached out, slapping the empty mattress next to her trying to find him. Groaning when she concluded he wasn’t next to her, Emma rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, checking the clock next to her.  _ 9:30 am _ . Sighing, she dragged herself out of bed and made her way downstairs. Halfway down the stairs she spotted Killian in the kitchen. His phone was in his hand. His ear buds were in. And he was  _ dancing _ . Like an idiot. In boxers and a t-shirt. His hair still messy from bed. God, he was awful. But fuck he was sexy. 

He clearly didn’t notice her because he didn’t stop, only slowed a bit to fill the coffee maker with water. So Emma snuck up behind him and joined his ridiculous dancing. Eventually he turned around, saw her, and broke out into a fit of laughter. 

“What’re we dancing to?” Emma yelled so he could hear her over his music. It was so loud she could hear it faintly from where she was in front of him. In response, Killian connected his phone to the bluetooth speaker on the counter and blasted  _ Your Such A Mystery  _ by Bleachers.

To anyone on the outside of their bubble they looked ridiculous. To Emma, it looked like what love should be. Or, at least, what she had always imagined it to be. Jumping around the kitchen at 9:30 in the morning in their pajamas, everything felt comfortable and wonderful. Maybe it was the endorphins talking but she felt like she was on cloud nine. And when Killian pulled her close to him to kiss her passionately, she believed that this must be the high people tried to chase with drugs. Who needs drugs when they have a Killian?

When the song ended, Killian pulled back. “Coffee, love?” 

“That depends. It’s not the same crap you have at the pub, is it?” Emma teased. Killian lowered the music so they didn’t have to scream to have a conversation when they were standing in each other's personal space.

He chuckled. “I promise it’s not. It’s local and it’s sweet. You’ll like it.” Killian poured them each a mug of coffee. He was right, she did like it. There was a hit of chocolate that did, in fact, make the bitter drink a little sweeter. She hummed softly, enjoying the comfort of the warm mug in her hand as the coffee started to bring her back to reality. 

“What is it?” 

“Ithaca House Blend from Ithaca Coffee Company. It’s fair trade and organic.” He explained, taking a sip from his mug. 

“Why don’t you serve this at the Jolly?”

“Because it’s not cheap and I spend money on alcohol. You and maybe 2 other people have ever ordered coffee there.”

“Maybe that’s because they know you serve shit coffee.” 

Killian chuckled. “Maybe.” Emma hopped up to sit on the island while Killian leaned back against the counter across from her. They drank their coffee for a moment in comfortable silence, listening to the music coming softly through the speaker on the counter. “How are you this morning?” He asked, tentatively. Concern blanketed his words, silently asking whether he hurt her, whether she regretted it, whether she enjoyed it. He was familiar with the buzz that an orgasm left him in and the way it sometimes, or more recently the way it often, faded the following morning. That morning, however, he woke up happier than he had ever been. Killian, who was much more of a night owl than an early bird, nearly sprung out of bed dancing while he replayed every glorious moment of the previous night a little too graphically according to a certain part of him that was more awake than the rest of him. That’s how he ended up dancing alone in his kitchen. Partially because he was happy, partially because he needed to work off the stress that started to settle in his stomach when he remembered the countless nights he regretted the morning after and wondered if that was how Emma would feel.

Emma knew. She knew exactly what he was asking when he spoke. “Cold. I did wake up alone while someone was having a dance party without me.” 

Killian chuckled, set his mug down and moved to wrap his arms around her. Emma’s legs wrapped around his waist and his arms around his neck. “Better?” 

“Much,” she said, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. 

“I have to pick up a few things from my apartment today and I assume you need some things from yours. I thought we could get that out of the way this morning, binge some Netflix or break out the DVD collection,” Killian’s voice dropped, “maybe jump in the hottub later?” 

Emma sighed, heat pooling in her belly. “That sounds wonderful.” 

They finished their coffee and made their way upstairs to get dressed during which Killian spent more time staring at Emma than actually pulling his own clothing on and Emma spent more time staring at Killian than actually pulling on her clothes and if it wasn’t for that lingering, delicious, ache between her legs reminding her of the previous night’s activity there likely would’ve been a repeat. 

“Later,” Emma purred as she walked past him and out of the bedroom carrying her bag with her. Like a puppy, he followed her, hanging on each syllable that fell from her mouth. 

They hopped in Killian’s car and drove back to Collegetown. In the daylight, the view from their drive was wonderful. Half the way back Emma could see the lake. She let her mind drift as she stared off into the distance, Killian tuning the radio to the local college modern rock station - WICB 91.7 FM. Emma’s eyes drifted to sleep from the soft vibrations of the car. Unfortunately her nap, which was more like sleep part 2 considering she had only been up for about an hour, was quickly interrupted by Killian gently shaking her shoulder. He had parked right outside the Jolly Roger. 

“Swan, wake up, love.” He placed a kiss to her temple as if he was bribing her to open her eyes. 

“Five more minutes,” Emma grumbled. 

“You can go right back to sleep when we get back to the house but right now I need you to pack.” Emma groaned, refusing to open her eyes. “Or else.” Killain smirked

“Or else what?” 

“Or else I’ll withhold sex from you all week.” He toyed.

Emma opened her eyes for the sole purpose of glaring at him. If looks could kill, Killian surely would’ve been dead in that moment. Then she closed her eyes again. “Okay goodnight.” 

Killian scoffed. “Fine. Then I won’t buy you breakfast.” 

Emma’s ears perked up and she instantly opened her eyes. “CTB?” 

“If I say yes will you please go pack?”

“Yes.” 

“Then yes.” 

Emma jumped out of the car, slamming the door a little too hard in her excitement. Killian mentally noted that she was significantly more food motivated than sex motivated and went to his apartment to pack his own things. 

In her bedroom Emma stared at the handful of clothes she owned. She grabbed a few pairs of jeans and leggings and a pair of sweatpants, her favorite Cornell sweatshirt and long sleeve (which together may as well have cost her an entire week's pay), a nicer sweater, and some long sleeves. Remembering that Killian mentioned a hot tub, she tossed in the simple black bikini that Elsa made her buy back in September when the weather was still nice enough to go gorge jumping. But when it came to lingerie, Emma was stuck. 

Emma Swan: When you’re back we need to go shopping.

Elsa Agnarr: FINALLY! 

Elsa Agnarr: where?

Emma Swan: That mall in Syracuse you always try to get me to take you to?

Elsa Agnarr: really?! i mean im not complaining ;) why the sudden desire to take a shopping trip?

Emma Swan: Oh nothing. I just need some new bras. 

Elsa Agnarr: and you felt the need to text me a week in advance to plan a shopping trip for just some new bras…

Emma Swan: I slept with Killian. 

Emma’s phone rang and Elsa started speaking the second she answered the FaceTime call. “You did what?” 

“I told you.” 

“Were you safe?!”

“Elsa!” They laughed. They were the cautious two of the group, nearly mothering over August and Robin whenever they could. Of course Emma was safe. 

“Was it good?”

“Oh my god.” Emma blushed furiously.

“Oooooo I knew he’d be good in bed.” 

“Elsa!” 

“Oh come on! Even though we don’t play for the same team, anyone with eyes would bet that Killian Jones is good in bed.” 

Emma sighed, an unfamiliar green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head in Emma’s mind. “Don’t remind me.” 

“So are you guys together?”

“I don’t know.” Emma admitted. She wanted to be. To call Killian Jones hers? That’s a dream Emma hadn’t allowed herself to have. No matter what, Killian had been there for her. To lose that, to lose her friend if none of this worked out, might kill her. He deserved someone better, someone less  _ damaged _ . And the familiar spiral began tightening in her mind. 

“Don’t overthink this Em. You deserve to be happy and he clearly makes you happy. I see the way you smile every time his name pops up on your phone.” 

“I just don’t want to ruin what we have.” 

“I think you ruined what you had when you slept with him. There’s no going back from that. You need to talk to him.” 

“I know.” 

“Elsa! Elsa!” Emma heard a familiar voice shouting on the other end of the line. Elsa giggled.

“Sorry I have to go. Anna’s been forcing me to help her make some pro/con lists for the college’s she’s been accepted to.” 

“Well she can’t go to Harvard. That’s a given.” 

“Can’t go to Penn either.”

“Guess it just has to be Cornell.” 

“ _ Far above Cayuga’s waters - _ ” Elsa started singing loudly so Anna could hear the alma mater every Cornell student knew by heart by the end of their first semester.

“ _ With it’s waves of blue-”  _ Emma joined in. “ _ Stands our noble Alma Mater, glorious to view. LIFT the chorus, speed it onward, loud her praises tell, hail to thee our Alma Mater -  _ ” 

In the background Anna groaned. “Not again.” 

“ _ HAIL, ALL HAIL, CORNELL! _ ” They screamed, bursting out laughing. 

“I’m going to Harvard if you don’t stop.” Anna threatened. 

“No you’re not.” Elsa turned her attention back to Emma. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Talk to you later.” They hung up. Emma’s lingerie problem, however, will have to wait another week. She shoved the nicest things she owned into the duffle bag she packed, stuffed her laptop and her journal into her backpack, and finally left her apartment to meet Killian at the car. 

He was sitting against the edge of his open trunk, reading something on his phone when she reached him. 

“Reading anything interesting?” She asked to get his attention. 

“Nope. Just doing some online shopping, love.” Killian kissed her cheek as he took her bag from her and placed it in the trunk. He had a black backpack and his guitar secured in its case. “Breakfast?”

“Please.” Emma was starving and entirely unprepared for the way he took her hand in his after he closed the trunk of his car, nonchalantly, as if this was their normal, their comfortable, their  _ them _ . 

They walked to CollegeTown Bagels, their joined hands swinging gently between them. When they arrived, they got on line as Killian told her a story about one Summer he spent with his grandparents as a kid. His thumb rubbed softly over the back of her hand, engrossed in his own story. Emma, however, wasn't paying any attention. 

At the front of the cafe, there was a brunette, a ghost from Emma’s past. Or, at least, she looked like a ghost from Emma’s past. Emma couldn’t quite make out the girl’s face. She was looking down at her phone, her hair blocking Emma’s view. Suddenly her past was flashing before her eyes, unfolding like a horror story where the victim runs into the house and the audience screams stop. But there’s no stopping the spiral Emma’s mind falls into.

_ A security guard was at the end of the aisle, clearly noticing the PopTart box Emma was shoving under her sweatshirt. The guard cleared her throat when Emma noticed her.  _

_ “Are you going to pay for that miss?” _

_ Emma was panicking. She couldn’t pay for it. She didn’t have money. All she had were a few hand-me-down clothes in a backpack and a bruise on her cheek from her last foster home she was trying to escape from.  _

_ Thankfully, a brunette around her age came to stand beside her and held up a credit card. “Yes, ma’am. Our Dad’s in the car just outside.” The guard nodded and left them to be. The girl turned to Emma. “The key is swiping one of these.”  _

_ Emma nodded. “Thank you.”  _

_ “I’m just like you, you know. Trying to get away. I’m Lilly.” _

Emma’s grip on Killian’s hand tightened like a vice grip.

“Swan?” KIllian asked, concern blanketing his voice. “Are you alright, love?

But Emma didn’t hear a word he said. 

_ Emma and Lilly shopped for a bit. They became fast friends. When they checked out and left, however, a car not too far away started honking and driving after them. Emma figured this was the man Lilly swiped the card from. So they ran. _

_ They lost the car and Lilly led her to a beautiful lake house that was empty for the season. And they promised to be friends forever, no matter what. Emma told her everything about her life, about moving between foster homes, about the abusive man that ran the last group home she was in, about how alone she felt all the time.  _

_ And Lilly pretended to understand. Because, in fact, Lilly couldn’t truly understand what Emma was going through. Because when they were caught later that night, it was Lilly’s father who caught them. Because this was Lilly’s family’s summer home.  _

Killian’s hand was starting to hurt under Emma’s grasp. It was their turn to place their order and Killian stepped up to the register, taking Emma with him. 

The brunette looked up when she stood to throw away her empty coffee cup. It had to be Lilly. But what was she doing in Ithaca? Emma nearly started hyperventilating, wanting to call out to her but being unable to find her voice. 

“Swan, what do you want for breakfast?” 

Emma watched the girl she assumed to be Lilly leave. “I’m actually not hungry anymore. I think I’ll just meet you outside,” She said, without turning to look at him. Emma let go of Killian’s hand and dashed out of the cafe. 

There was already distance between them. Emma just stood there, shocked. She didn’t know what to say or whether to say anything or whether Lilly still hated her. And even though Emma was standing alone, now nowhere near Lilly, she was working herself up to a panic attack. Her entire body was shaking. Killian followed shortly after. 

“Emma?” He quickly noticed her panicked state and pulled her into his arms, placing a comforting kiss to her forehead. “Come on, love. Let’s go.” 

***

Back at the house, Killian made tea for Emma and opened a package of PopTarts to put on a plate. From the kitchen he felt the weight of Emma’s thoughts, but she hadn’t said a word to him since the cafe. Something happened there, but he couldn’t figure out what. Was it him? Was it another guy? Was she having second thoughts? Was she starting to regret what they did? Was she starting to regret what they were, what they had become, what was so strong between them? 

She was curled up on the couch, staring at the TV which was turned to the local news channel. It was Ithaca. It was grey, cold, probably some form of precipitation was expected at some point in the day, some local business was probably doing something for charity, the university students were probably protesting or petitioning something, and there was probably news about music or theatrical performances. Every now and again something major happened at one of the colleges and that was  _ actually _ newsworthy. All of this to say that if you need something mindless to watch, local news in central New York was the place to turn. 

Killian brought the tea and plate over to Emma who graciously accepted the mug but ignored the plate. Killian sat next to her, keeping some distance between them in case he was the reason she was upset. “Talk to me, love,” he urged her, gently. 

Emma took a sip of tea. “It’s nothing, Killian.” 

“Swan, you’re clearly upset about something. You’re an open book to me.” He sighed. “Did I do something? Do you regret last night?” 

Emma looked at him, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. “What?! No! Killian, no.” She set the mug down and laid down, resting her head in his lap. He stroked her hair, playing with his softly. Instantly she felt relaxed, her heart fluttering slightly, her entire body tingling in bliss from the feeling of Killian’s fingers running through her hair. 

“You know you can tell me anything, love.” 

Emma sighed. “I thought I saw an old friend. I guess she’s more like a former friend. I’m not really sure anymore, to be honest.” Killian stopped his motions and looked at her. “Don’t stop,” Emma nearly whimpered. 

Killian chuckled and resumed playing with Emma’s hair. “What happened?” 

“Lilly and I met when she saved my ass while I was trying to steal PopTarts from a convenience store.” 

“Ah the shoplifting PopTarts story.”

Emma looked up at him. “You remember that?”

Killian blushed. “Aye.” 

Emma could’ve kissed him senseless in that moment. Finally, for what felt like the first time in her life, someone genuinely listened to her. And this wasn’t the first time Emma had this realization about Killian. She noticed every time he heard her answers to how her day was. She noticed every time she ranted about school or told him what she learned. But something about this time meant a little more to her. 

“Yeah. The shoplifting PopTarts story. Anyway, she made me feel like she was like me. Like she was also a foster kid, bouncing around from home to home. It was a particularly bad time. I was running away from a home that didn’t treat any of the kids right. There was always a reason for the guy running it to hit us, always something we did wrong, something we did to aggravate him. So I ran and I was hungry and I was about to get caught and Lilly stepped in with a credit card and said that our dad was waiting for us outside. She told me she swiped the card from some stranger, that she was also running from the system and brought me to this empty lake house which, by the way, was her family’s lake house because she wasn’t running from the system because she was never in the system and she tricked me into thinking she understood but she couldn’t understand. No one could understand what it’s like to constantly be running as a child, to not have a home, to sometimes have a roof over your head but never be at peace and never feel safe. No one could understand what it’s like to want to get the fuck out so fucking bad that you spend two and a half years living in a car you worked overtime to be able to buy just to have consistency in your fucking transcript so ivy leagues don’t immediately reject you. No one could understand unless they fucking experienced it.” 

Emma was screaming by the time she finished. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she bared part of her soul to a man she realized she didn’t want to live without, a man that made her feel loved and at peace and at home, a man who would stand so fiercely beside her through anything life threw at her. 

And in that same moment of realization for Emma, Killian fell in love with her.

“Emma . . .” Killian whispered, silently making promises to himself that he dared not speak out loud for fear that she’d run from the sheer intensity of the way he felt for her. No longer would he ever allow her to be hit or hurt. No longer would he ever allow her to feel alone or hungry. No longer would he ever allow her to not have a home or someone she would call family or someone she could turn to when everything was crashing down around her or simply getting too much for one person to carry. No longer would he ever allow her to feel unloved. 

He didn’t want her to ever have to run from something again. He wanted to be what she ran to. 

“There’s more. I’ll tell you the rest another day.” Emma sat up so that she could curl up against Killian’s side as he engulfed her in his arms. He held her tightly against him and they sat silently for a while. Eventually, they both fell asleep. 

***

They were sitting on the floor on either side of the coffee table in the living room, Emma’s back against the couch as she lost yet another game of chess to Killian who broke out his grandfather’s marble chess set. He had even tried to let her win on multiple occasions but Emma was too distracted by his deep blue eyes to pay any mind to the game in front of her. She missed easy takes and fell easily into his traps. Fitting, really, considering how easily she fell for, fell into,  _ him _ .

“Alright, alright, I surrender.” Emma tapped her foot against Killian’s thigh. “I believe that you promised me a dip in a hot tub?” She asked, smirking at him. 

If it were possible to undress someone with your eyes, Killian would’ve been naked in an instant with the look Emma was giving him. He waggled his eyebrows at her, entirely up to play this game she started. “Did you bring your swimsuit, love?"

“Do I need one, Captain?” Emma teased. 

“You little minx.” Killian growled, his cock already starting to harden simply at the words falling off her tongue, and the image they created in his mind. “You go change, or strip, either works wonders for me, love, and grab some towels from upstairs.” 

Emma giggled and bounded up the stairs to change into her black bikini. She pulled her hair up into a bun on the top of her head, grabbed some towels, and rummaged through the dresser drawers to find a pair of Killian’s swim trunks for him. 

She found him in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of red wine. Killian was nothing if not a romantic. 

“I hope one of those is for me,” she toyed, wanting to get his attention and catch him off guard while she wore nothing but her bathing suit. 

The second he saw her, Killian’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow,” was about all he could manage. 

Emma threw his swim trunks at him. “I brought you these.” He caught them, easily. 

He handed her a glass and kissed her softly. “Outside on the left end of the deck. I’ll meet you there, my love.” 

The cold air nipped at Emma’s skin as she quickly walked towards the hot water, careful not to spill her wine. It was a long day that tested all of her emotions. Quite frankly, she was exhausted and stressed. Killian tried all day to keep her mind busy, tried to help her relax. As graceful as we were for him, none of it worked. Her past with Lilly kept replaying over and over like a broken record or a film on loop. Sinking into the warm bubbly water, her back against a few of the jets, finally she felt herself relaxing. The jets felt so good against her back she was nearly moaning by the time Killian joined her. She actually didn’t even notice him slipping into the tub across from her until he chuckled. 

“Enjoying yourself, love?”

“This might be better than sex.” 

Killian threw his head back and laughed. He could have come up with a cheeky line, but he knew she needed this. He knew she needed to really relax, to turn her mind off for a second. He’d follow her lead on where this went. 

“Come here, Swan.” He took a sip of his wine and set it down on the ledge behind him. Emma moved to sit between Killian’s legs. He placed a sensual kiss on her shoulder and his hands trailed up her arms to rub her shoulders, working at the knots that had formed there likely from stress. 

Emma moaned softly. “That feels nice.” 

“All I want is to make you feel good.” Killian whispered against her ear, nipping teasingly at her lobe.

“Mmm you’re succeeding.” 

He trailed kisses slowly down her neck, stopping at her pulse point to suck gently at her skin. His fingertips ghosted down her sides, tracing the curves of her breasts and her waist. “I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Swan.” 

His words sent a shiver down her spine as he spoke in that timbre she learned was reserved for only the sultriest of remarks, the dirtiest of phrases, the sexiest of sayings. 

“Well now you have me . . . And I’m all yours, Killian.” Emma’s hands rested on Killian’s thighs. As much as she wanted to turn to face him, to straddle his legs and grind into him, to tell him to take shed them of the few clothes creating a barrier between them, Emma was quite enjoying this teasing game. 

“And I, yours, love.” Killian pulled her back against him so she could feel the effect her words had on him. “Just hearing you say that is enough to turn me on.” 

Emma wiggled her ass back against him which elicited a hiss from Killian behind her. “I quite enjoy having this effect on you, Captain.” 

“Oh do you now?” 

“Aye,” Emma said, mocking his accent. 

Killian chuckled. “You think you’re funny?”

“Aye,” she mocked again, a devilish grin plastered on her face.

In response, Killian nipped at her pulse point, dragging his teeth teasingly over her skin, sucking to leave his mark on her. Not expecting how incredible that would feel, Emma gasped. “Not so funny anymore, are you, my love?” 

Taking a deep breath to attempt to calm her racing heart, Emma hummed softly. “It’s hard to think straight when you’re doing such salacious things to me.”

Killian trailed his fingertips underwater over her stomach, whispering in a sultry tone against her neck between wet kisses, “Close your eyes, Swan.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?” 

Emma closed her eyes. “With all my heart.” She let her head fall back against Killian’s shoulder. 

“Imagine I’m kissing down your body,” Killian whispered, trailing his hand between her breasts and down her stomach to the waistband of her bikini bottoms. Emma hummed in response. “Teasing just above where I know you want me.” 

Dancing his fingers over her skin, he turned his attention to her breast. “You’re wearing far too much clothing, love.” 

Emma reached behind her neck and untied the top while Killian untied the back, tossing the material to the ground beside the tub. “Better?” She teased.

“Much,” Killian smirked, cupping her breasts in his hands, massaging gently. 

Emma moaned, heat pooling in the pit of her stomach. “Killian . . .” 

“Does that feel good love?” He purred.

“Fuck, Killian. Yes,” Emma groaned, arching her back as if her body was begging for more of his touch, more of his voice, more of his everything.

He placed a kiss on her shoulder. “You’re so beautiful, Emma.” 

Emma hummed softly. “Don’t stop.” 

“Don’t stop what? Talking?” Killian teased.

“Don’t stop talking,” Emma affirmed, the simple way each word teasingly fell off his tongue sending chills down her spine. 

“As you wish, my love.” One of his hands grazed over a sensitive spot on her side. 

Emma broke out into a fit of giggles. “Killian! Stop!"

Killian chuckled, purposely tickling her. “Stop?”

“I’m ticklish!” Emma nearly bucked back against him, her laughter uncontrollable. Killian grins, the carefree nature of her genuine laugh warmed his heart. For once today, after a long, stressful day, it looked like Emma was relaxed. But he stopped, lifting both of his hands off of her body, complying with her request. 

“Wait, no,” Emma whimpered. 

“No?” 

“Come back.” She reached back and grabbed one of his wrists, bringing his hand back to rest on her stomach. 

“I’m here, Swan. Wherever you need me.” He lowered his lips back to her neck, over the mark he had left earlier. Once again, his hands were roaming her torso, dancing over her stomach, careful to avoid her ticklish sides, caressing her breasts beneath the water, teasing her nipples. 

Emma groaned, his name slipping effortlessly from her lips as her eyes close and her head resettles against his shoulder. “More,” she whispers, as if saving that word only for him.

“How about,” Killians hands trailed down her body to her thighs, “here?” 

Emma inhales sharply, his fingers dangerously close to where she so desperately needs him. “More,” she repeats. “Killian, please.” 

She can feel him smile against her throat, grinning like a madman. 

“Where?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know, as if he didn’t already know where she was aching for his touch, as if he wasn’t aching to give her everything she needed, everything she wanted. 

Emma rested her hand over his, guiding him to rest above where she needed him over her bikini bottoms. He strummed his fingers over her clit. “Oh god.” 

“Killian will do just fine, love,” he joked, chuckling as he continued his teasing.

If Emma could do anything other than moan she might’ve - would’ve - rolled her eyes at him. Instead, she played along, giving him exactly what he asked for. “Oh Killian.”

He hummed softly. “I love the way you moan my name, letting the world know who’s turning you on, who’s making you feel this good.” 

Grinding her hips into his hand, Emma was reaching the point of begging. “Killian,” she pleaded, “more.”

Killian grinned, having found the perfect opportunity to mention one of the ridiculous pickup lines he had spent hours looking for on the internet after they had first met when she was studying for economics. “Are your legs available for some open market operations, Swan?” 

Emma’s eyes shot open and she turned around to playfully hit his chest. 

“What? Not up for a conversation about open markets, Swan? I thought you’d be an expert after all that studying you’ve been doing.” He smirked, clearly enjoying this game they’ve been playing.

Emma glared pointedly at him, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. “You almost ruined the mood.”

“Almost?” Killian raised an eyebrow at her.

Emma shifts to straddle his legs, now facing him, finally able to see the storm in his eyes. Killian dragged his nails down her bare back, scratching gently. Her hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck and her lips captured his in a passionate kiss she had been longing for since this dance began. His tongue slipped between her lips, finding hers as he held her close to her. Instinctively, Killian groaned into her mouth as her hips rolled over his straining cock. 

Emma grinned against his lips. “You like that, Captain?” 

Killian hummed, his hands now resting on her hips, edging her down harder on him as she resisted. “More, Emma,” Killian pleaded.

“My, my, how the tables have turned.” Emma listed her hips off him entirely, eliciting a groan from the man beneath her. 

“You’re killing me, love.” His hands ran over her ass, squeezing. 

“Hmmmm maybe I’m feeling a sense of sympathy,” Emma teased, her hands toying with his hair, “for those swim trunks.” While her eyes portrayed the utmost innocence, her words insinuated that her intentions were anything but. 

Killian smirked, waggling his eyebrows at her. “A  _ growing _ sense?”

Emma giggled. “Well  _ something’s  _ growing.” She ran her hands down his chest until her fingers were brushing along his waistband. Killian leaned back, giving her the room she needed, groaning and laughing softly at the utter bliss rippling through his body at every brush of her fingertips. 

Her hands grazed over his cock, clearly hard and ready for her. “Why don’t we move this into the bedroom?” She whispered salaciously against his lips. 

“Swan, you read my mind.” She left him with a quick kiss, hopping out of the tub and wrapping a towel around her as she raced towards the back door to escape the cold, Ithaca night, with Killian following closely behind. 

***

The past few days had been more than Emma ever could have dreamed of. Falling asleep wrapped in Killians arms holding her closely against her, waking up to freshly made cups of coffee, spending days playing games and reading and telling nonsensical stories, spending evening curled up on the couch watching whatever seemed interesting on Netflix, and spending nights making out on the couch like hormonal teenagers was simply perfect. 

It was Wednesday. Spring break was halfway over and Emma dreaded having to go back to the reality of classes and studying and being apart from Killian. Her eyes fluttered open, sighing as Killian trailed butterfly kisses down her body. He had pushed the covers away, needing to see her face for cues. They hadn’t bothered getting dressed from the night before and had fallen asleep shortly after cleaning up from a delightful rendezvous.

She gripped the pillowcase with one hand while her other ran through his messy hair. A sleepy moan escaped her lips when he kissed her inner thigh. “Well this is a nice way to wake up,” Emma purred. 

Killian grinned against her thigh, his stubble scratching gently against her only turned her on more. Unfortunately any endeavour he had planned for that morning was interrupted by Emma’s phone. He groaned, resting his cheek against her thigh, looking up at her with pleading, piercing blue eyes. “Please don’t answer that,” Killian begged. He’d been wanting to taste her all week, but they always seemed to get a little caught up in the moment. 

Emma checked her phone, thinking it might be Belle asking her to come in a day or two to help out this week. “It’s August,” she said, confused. August never called her. His preferred method of annoying her was sending a million and a half text messages in a row until she answered. She gently swatted Killians face away from her, a move that was met with an even louder groan as he flopped onto his back. Emma answered the phone. “August?”

“Ems, I don’t fucking know what I’m going to fucking do,” August said, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked on the other end of the line. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Emma asked, concern so clearly blanketing each word that Killian was no longer pouting like an incessant child and instead tossing her his t-shirt from the floor before grabbing a clean pair of boxers from the dresser for himself. 

“I can’t fucking believe this is happening. Everything is falling apart.” It sounded like August, someone who had been her rock through the stress of their first semester, was crying. Emma quickly pulled Killian’s shirt on. 

“August you have to talk to me. What happened?” 

“I didn’t get the fucking internship.”

“The one with the publishing house in New York? I thought the final interview went well! The HR rep basically told you that you got the job.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?!” August screamed. Emma winced. “Fuck, Ems I’m sorry.” 

“What happened?” Emma asked softly.

August sighed. “I have no idea. I got great feedback after every round and they basically handed me the job after the last round but I must’ve fucked up something because I got a rejection email this morning.” He choked on a sob. This was his dream internship. He had worked his entire life for the chance to be at this publishing house. He spent countless hours prepping and forcing Emma to ask him interview questions he had complied from random internet sources and previous interns he connected with on LinkedIn.

“August, I’m so sorry. You have that other interview right?”

“I turned it down. I turned it down after the empty promises HR made.” 

Emma’s heart broke for her friend. “Fuck August. I’m so sorry.” Killian came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth and flopped back into bed, throwing his arm over his eyes. Emma reached over to play with his hair with her free hand. 

“I don’t know what to do.” August whispered. 

“We’ll figure this out. There are still applications open and great publishing houses to start at. Check Nashville. If you’re feeling adventurous check London.” Emma paused. “We’ll figure this out, August.” 

“I just wish I knew what I did wrong.”

“So send an email. You had a good relationship with that guy in HR, send him an email and ask for some feedback so that you can come back next year and do better.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” August sighed heavily. “Thanks Ems. I better go. Sorry for bothering you.” 

“I’m always here for you, Gus.”

August snorted. “I hate you.” 

“Aw, I love you too!” 

Killian smiled next to her, partially because it felt damn good when she ran her hand through his hair like she was doing and partially because it warmed his heart to hear how much she cared about her friends. And he would have been lying if he didn’t admit that he was imagining what it would be like to be on the receiving end of her “I love you.”

Emma hung up the phone after saying goodbye and sighed. 

Killian uncovered his eyes to look up at her. “Everything alright, Swan?” 

“Yeah. Something happened with August’s internship and he’s back at square one.” 

Killian rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “Why do I sense there’s something else? You forget you’re an open book to me, love.” 

“I just . . . I haven't even  _ thought _ about what I was going to do this summer.”

Suddenly, Killian’s heart was in his throat, realizing that Emma might choose to spend the Summer in a glamorous city working for an incredible publishing house . . . away from him. 

“What do you want to do?” He asked, tentatively but ready to fully support whatever dreams and goals she had. If only she knew how deeply he was in this thing that they started, how fiercely he’d stand beside her no matter what, how no matter where in the world she was he’d either wait for her or follow her. Killian, he was realizing this week, would follow her to the end of the world, or time, if that’s what it took to be with her. 

Emma smiled down at him, shifting so she was no longer sitting up next to him but laying down facing him. “I want to write. I really want to write.” 

_ Writing _ . Writing was something she could do anywhere. Writing was something she could do in Ithaca. Writing was something she didn’t have to leave him to accomplish. Killian grinned before showering her face in kisses. 

Emma giggled, rolling onto her back so that Killian was taking his place atop her. “What's all this for?” She asked between fits of giggles, pretending like she didn’t know why Killian was happy - ecstatic really. Her whole life she wanted to be a writer, to tell stories like the ones that got her through the worst moments of her life, the ones that provided her an escape even when she was too tired to run, the ones that gave her hope and showed her love and captured her wildest imaginations. Writing suddenly had an added benefit. She could write wherever she wanted to write. She could write from Ithaca. She could stay near Killian. Emma didn’t need to give up her heart to follow her dreams. 

“I just -” Killian paused, his heart racing as he smiled down at Emma beneath him.

“What, Killian?” 

His heart skipped a beat when she said his name. Granted, there was nothing he adored more than the way Emma said his name. This time, however, she spoke his name as if she was claiming him as her own. “I just really didn’t want you to be away from me.” 

“I think you’re stuck with me.” Emma pulled him close to her. “If you’ll have me, that is.” 

“Emma, I am always yours.” 

Neither of them could imagine, in that moment, a life without each other. And so they didn’t. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and for your comments! As always, feel free to find me over on Tumblr at [Cluttermind](https://cluttermind.tumblr.com/)


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